


An Ideal Shelf Life

by knittycat99



Series: What Kind of Life it Has Been [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Politics, American Presidents, Don't Ask Don't Tell, M/M, Political Campaigns, US Senate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittycat99/pseuds/knittycat99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah Puckerman is the Deputy Chief of Staff; Kurt Hummel is the President's no. 1 wordsmith.  Their timing has always been bad, but finally starting a romance 8 weeks before the mid-term elections is a really bad idea.  Written for the 2011 Fic I Didn't Write game on LJ</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**Washington, D.C., September 1996**

The taxi dropped Kurt Hummel into the unexpected warmth of the early afternoon, and peeled away before he’d even pulled his suitcase onto the sidewalk.  He was still reeling from his first airplane trip, and from the distinct culture shock of being anywhere but Lima, Ohio, but he managed to haul both his backpack and garment bag in addition to his suitcase over to the large double doors of the Senate Page residence hall.  He was about to heft one of the doors open when the squeal of another taxi caught his attention.  The vehicle was already back into traffic, and the tall, dark-haired boy who’d gotten out was yelling.  “Thanks a lot, asshole!”

Kurt laughed to himself and called out to the boy.  “At least he let you get your bags onto the sidewalk.”

“Yeah, well.  I guess they’re not much for hospitality here.”  Kurt watched the boy’s biceps bulge under his gray t-shirt as he hefted a large suitcase, a guitar case, and a backpack that looked as stuffed as Kurt’s own was.

“It’s not like home, that’s for sure.”  Kurt managed to pull the door open and ushered the other boy through ahead of him.

“Thanks,” the boy said, and moved his luggage out of the way so that Kurt could follow him into the dim lobby.  Kurt almost missed the soft baritone that drifted after him.  “Where’s home?”

“Nowhere important.”  Kurt shrugged.  “Just Ohio.”

“No shit.  Me, too.”  The other boy dropped his backpack and held his hand out to Kurt.  “Noah Puckerman.  Dayton.”

Kurt huffed into his bangs and took Noah’s hand.  It was warm and slightly rough.  “Well.  We’re practically neighbors.   At least as far as Ohio is concerned.  Kurt Hummel.  Lima.”

“I’m sorry.”  Noah made a face, which Kurt mirrored.

“Yeah.  Me, too.”  He piled his luggage, and made his way to a large table, where a woman was sitting with boxes and packets arranged in front of her.  She was a step ahead, and slid a packet across the table to Kurt.  “You’re on the boy’s floor, room 3.  Class schedule, work schedule, name badge, key card, meal card.”  She tilted her head at him.  “Don’t lose any of those.  It doesn’t matter how many times I tell you kids to keep track, someone’s always lost theirs by the end of the second day.  Elevator’s that way.”  She nodded around the corner, and Kurt started in that direction as the woman started to give Noah the same speech.  He loaded his bags into the elevator and held the door. 

Noah’s eyes were wide with gratitude as he rounded the corner.  He fumbled with his packet and jabbed the button for the third floor.  When the doors closed, he rested his head against the elevator wall and closed his eyes.  “Welcome to Washington,” he muttered.

Kurt offered a light laugh.  “I don’t think we’re in Ohio anymore, Toto.”

**

By the end of the first month, Kurt was exhausted.  His day started before dawn, because classes at the Page School began at 6:15.  He and the other 29 pages went to the Capitol after classes, and worked until at least 4 pm.  More often, though, they were dragging home after dark, only to stare down at least three hours of homework at night.  Kurt stopped sleeping sometime in the middle of the second week, which was nothing new; he’d always been insomniac when he was stressed.  Which was why he couldn’t have been happier to find out that his roommates, who were all from places easily accessible by car or train, were heading home for the long Columbus Day weekend.  The residence was going to be practically empty.  Fall was in full swing.  And Kurt had plans.

Sleep, for one.  Homework, for another.  But the siren call of the weekend was going to be the freedom to explore his temporary home.

Friday afternoon, Kurt was contemplating sweat pants and a t-shirt, a video, and ordering Chinese when he heard faint music drifting down the hall from Room 1.  When he knocked softly, the door inched open to reveal Noah, sitting in the middle of the floor with his guitar in his lap, plucking out what Kurt thought was an old Sting song his dad liked. 

“Good song.”  He nodded at the guitar.  “You’re really good.”

Kurt thought Noah might have blushed, but he wasn’t sure.  When he spoke, his voice betrayed nothing.  “I just mess around, mostly.”

“Do you sing?” 

“Nah.  I mean, not outside of my house.  My Ma and my sister like it.”  Noah ran a hand through his close-cropped curls.  “Do you?”

“Sing?”  Kurt moved from where he was leaning against the door frame a little farther into the room.  “Yeah.  In my school’s glee club.  We’re pretty good.”  He looked at his hands, thinking of his friends back at McKinley and the solace of the choir room.  “Our director thinks we might be able to go to Nationals this year.  I’m missing the first half of the competition season, but this was more important.”

Noah let his fingers drift over the strings, into another song Kurt half-knew, like a memory he couldn’t catch.  “I’m missing all of football season.  But this?”  He grinned at Kurt.  “I’d never admit it to my friends, but this is _so much_ better than stupid football.”

Kurt grinned back.  Even in Glee Club, he was a little bit outside of things for lots of reasons, but here with the other pages he was with kids who shared one purpose.  “I know.  This is so much better than Glee Club, too.” 

Noah set his guitar aside gently and propped his head in his hands before staring at Kurt.  “How big a political geek are you?”

Kurt felt like he was being challenged.  He wasn’t used to that.  His friends and classmates just listened past his ramblings and laughed it off like one of his little quirks.  Like it was cute or something, instead of the thing that was going to get him out of Lima fucking Ohio and into a state house or governor’s office.  Or the White House.  He dug deep, to the thing that nobody would believe about a boy who was brushing elbows with senators and other political bigwigs in elevators and hallways every day.  “The Supreme Court is back in session on Monday.”

Noah drew in a breath, and his eyes sparkled lightly.  “You can get in, when they’re hearing oral arguments, for like 15 minutes or something.”

Kurt nodded, felt color high in his cheeks.  “I want to go.  I _have_ to go.  I can’t leave D.C. without doing that.”

Noah rubbed his hands together and grinned.  “Excellent.”

“But what about you?” 

Noah shook his head.  “I’m here.  That’s all I need.  That’s enough, for now.”

**

Noah hadn’t believed it, not when he first told Kurt that quiet weekend in October.  He hadn’t believed a lot of things then, when the city was so new and he didn’t quite feel like he fit in his body, or his mind.  But as the fall wore on, he fell into a certain kind of confidence _within_ himself, and it was like all the things that had been holding him back from _everything_ his whole life were just gone.  
  
He and Kurt both went home to Ohio for winter break, and it didn’t take long for Noah to realize that while he had grown during his four months in Washington, everyone else in his life was exactly the same.  The whole two weeks he was there, in the small apartment where he lived with his mom and his 10 year old sister Sarah, he felt like he was breathing underwater.  He felt stupid, like he’d been given an out, an exit strategy, and he’d come _back_ to fucking Ohio.  Who did that?  
  
 _Apparently_ you _do_ , he thought to himself on the last night of Hanukkah as he listened to the noise of his mom and sister frying latkes in the kitchen.  He sat in front of their clunky, aging computer and waited the eternity it took the stupid thing to boot up and dial into the internet.  His AOL inbox was full of email, most of it from guys on the football team, but the most recent one made him smile.  
  
 _From: youngdems_1995@aol.com  
To: politicalfootball@aol.com  
Subject: Rescue Me  
  
Noah-  
  
I hope your break is good.    
  
I’m excited to get back to D.C. next week, but then I think about having to come back here at the end of January and I get anxious.  
  
There’s more out there for us than Ohio, right?  
  
If I don’t hear from you, I’ll see you at the airport.  
  
-Kurt  
_  
Noah clicked on the reply button, and composed a short reply through an unexpected smile.  
  
 **From: politicalfootball@aol.com  
To: youngdems_1995@aol.com  
Subject: Re: Rescue Me  
  
Kurt-  
  
I know exactly what you mean.  I didn’t think it was possible to change so much in one semester.  But apparently I have.  
  
And everyone else here?  They’re exactly the same as the day I left.  
  
There _has_ to be more than this.  And if there isn’t, don’t tell me.  I don’t think I could handle that.  
  
Of course I’ll see you at the airport.  But since your insomnia has worn off on me, you might be able to catch me in chat wicked late, if you want.  
  
-Noah  
**  
He half wanted to wait there, to see if a reply would come soon, but he could smell the potatoes, and the idea of a plate of his mom’s latkes with applesauce and sour cream was too big a pull.  He logged off of AOL, but didn’t shut the computer off.  He’d be back later, when everyone else was asleep, and maybe Kurt would be there too.  
  
***  
  
Kurt closed the door behind the last of the relatives and slumped back, letting his head fall against the door.  He closed his eyes and just breathed.    
  
“You okay, honey?”  Carole’s voice from the kitchen doorway was gentle.  
  
“Yeah, Carole.  I’m okay.  Just tired.”  Kurt rubbed a hand over his eyes.  He wanted to disappear into his room, wanted to see if he had an email from Noah.  Wanted to be special instead of just different.   
  
“Do you want a cup of tea, or some warm milk?  You didn’t eat dessert.  There’s still some apple pie.”  Carole looked about as tired as Kurt felt.  
  
“I’m pretty full.  But could you leave the pie out?  I might have some later.”  When the house was dark and quiet and he couldn’t sleep.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept through the night.  
  
“Of course.  I’ll leave the vanilla and cinnamon out for your warm milk, too.”  
  
Kurt smiled lightly, and crossed the living room to give Carole a hug.  She was never going to take his mom’s place, but she was a really great step-mother.  Her hair tickled his nose, and she smelled like baked fruit and lemon dish soap.  “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.  
  
She patted his shoulder when he pulled away.  “Get some sleep, honey.  It was a busy day.”  
  
He ran a hand through his hair and started up the stairs before turning and speaking softly.  “You, too.”  
  
When he reached his room at the top of the stairs, he ducked inside and shut the door before Finn could hijack him for video games or girlfriend problems.  He changed from his holiday clothes into sweatpants and the Georgetown t-shirt he’d bought on a weekend excursion with some of the other pages while his computer powered up, and almost started in pleasant surprise when the computerized chime and voice told him he had mail.  He actually had four messages.  Three were generic “Happy Holiday” emails from other pages, and one was from Noah.  He read Noah’s reply, and smiled faintly at the idea of chatting.  They weren’t terribly close friends in D.C., but sharing geography meant a lot sometimes, and they always fell into easy companionship when they were together.  Kurt thought that he considered Noah a friend, and everyone, including himself, knew he was very short of friends and had been for a long time.  He opened a chat window and added _politicalfootball_ to his buddy list, and then left the window open while he finished getting ready for bed.  He wished he had a laptop so he could chat from the comfort of his bed, but he knew he was lucky to have his own computer, and he supposed there were worse things than sitting in a desk chair for a few hours.  
  
He knew there were, when he really thought about it: standing along the walls in the Senate chamber at midnight during a filibuster, to start.  He stiffened with discomfort at the thought; there had been more than one night like that leading up to the winter recess.    
  
Kurt was half-chasing that thought around in his head, trying to reconcile _that_ experience with the life he’d be returning to in a month, when his message window pinged.   _Noah_.  Kurt wasn’t sure what to do with the tiny flutter in his stomach, or the way his breath barely hitched at Noah’s presence in space with him.  He pulled out his chair and settled in.  
  
 **politicalfootball:** _How’s your break?_  
  
 **youngdems_1995:** _ugh_  
  
 **politicalfootball:** _it can’t be that bad_  
  
 **youngdems_1995:** _three words for you: Great.  Aunt.  Mildred.  She kind of smells like mothballs and rubbing alcohol, and she still pinches my cheeks like I’m two._    
  
 **politicalfootball:** _My mom made latkes tonight, for Hanukkah.  They’re delicious, like seriously my favorite thing about Hanukkah.  But they make everything smell like fried potato._    
  
 **youngdems_1995:** _I’ve never had a latke.  We had the whole family over tonight, and there was lots of beer and things that were breaded and fried.  My mom used to make homemade spaetzle._  
  
Kurt swallowed at the thought of his mom.  There was no way around it; even eight years later, thinking of her, losing her, what that _felt like_ , still made him cry.  He tried to stay away from those thoughts in public, or around anybody who wasn’t his dad.  
  
 **politicalfootball:** _used to?_  
  
Kurt stared at his cursor, blinking steadily in the message box.  He hadn’t told Noah anything about his mom, really.  Identifying Carole and Finn as his stepmother and stepbrother had implied plenty, and Noah hadn’t asked anything beyond that.  Now he was going to have to say something.  He closed his eyes against a prickle of tears and continued on, grateful for the almost anonymity and distance of computer screens.  
  
 **youngdems_1995:** _she died.  when I was 8._  
  
Kurt waited for a reply.  And waited.  He let his head fall forward onto his arms, cursing his overwhelming need for honesty.  He worried that he’d just completely messed things up by bringing something serious into a way to escape for a little while.  
  
 **politicalfootball:** _I’m sorry.  I didn’t know._  
  
 **youngdems_1995:** _It’s okay.  I don’t tell just anybody._  
  
 **politicalfootball:** _thanks, then.  for trusting me._  
  
Kurt’s breath caught again, and his pulse quickened.  He shifted in his chair, and tried not to think too hard about the way just chatting with Noah was making him feel.  Just before he’d left for Washington, he’d started to understand some important things about himself, about the loneliness he’d always felt and didn’t understand.  He was pretty sure that he was gay, but he also knew that being gay in Western Ohio was something nobody wanted to be, so he kept his realization to himself.  And he was going to have to continue keeping it to himself, because he felt lucky to be growing a friendship with Noah, and he didn’t want to ruin it with whatever this was that he was feeling.   _Attraction_ , his brain told him, but he shut the thought away as quickly as it appeared and turned his attention back to the computer.  
  
In his daze, he’d missed a follow-up from Noah.  
  
 **politicalfootball:** _you ok?_  
  
 **youngdems_1995:** _yeah.  just been a long day._  
  
 **politicalfootball:** _do you want to go?_  
  
Kurt took another deep breath, and thought that the best idea might be to say yes, log off, and go to bed.  But he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.  
  
 **youngdems_1995:** _I should, but I don’t want to._  
  
 **politicalfootball:** _what **do** you want?_  
  
 **youngdems_1995:** _you don’t know what you’re asking_.  
  
***  
Noah sat in the dim light of the computer screen, holding his breath.  For the first time since getting back to Dayton, he didn’t feel restless.  Instead, he was pinned to his chair by the unexpected connection he was having with Kurt.  
  
He was pretty sure that Kurt was gay.  Not that Kurt would say anything, and Noah sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up, because the one thing he’d learned from his cousin Jonah was that you just didn’t _do_ shit like that.  Back when Noah was in 8th grade, and Jonah had stayed with them for a few weeks the summer he came out to Aunt Rita and Uncle Jerry, he and Jonah had talked about the gay thing.  Rather, Jonah had talked about the gay thing and Noah had listened, and filed all the information away.  And yeah, maybe somewhere in the very deepest corner of his mind he’d wondered what it might feel like, to like boys that way.  But really, when you were basically raising your little sister and managing the house while your mom worked double shifts to pay the bills, there was no time to worry about things you couldn’t control.  So Noah had just blinked and moved on, like the thought had never crossed his mind.    
  
Until now.  Until all of a sudden it was like Kurt could fucking read his mind, and his thoughts went directly to his fingers, bypassing his filter altogether.  
  
What the hell was he doing?  
  
He barely knew Kurt, outside of a handful of conversations and the shared uniqueness of being both Ohioans and pages.  But what he did know, he liked.  
  
Noah flexed his fingers and drummed them lightly against the keyboard.  Started to type, deleted it all.  Huffed a breath out into the air, and tried again.  
  
 **politicalfootball:** _I might.  Know what I’m asking._  
  
He had to wait on Kurt’s reply.  He was shaking, nervous and excited at the same time, like if he got the response he wanted then absolutely _everything_ in his life was going to be illuminated in brilliant clarity.  Finally, after what was surely only minutes but felt like eternity, it was there.  
  
 **youngdems_1995:** _I can’t do this for “might know”.  At least not online like this.  Goodnight, Noah._  
  
Noah’s brain was still tripping over Kurt’s words when his computer told him, in no uncertain terms, that _youngdems_1995 has logged off_.  
  
Crap.  
  
***  
  
Kurt was running.  It was easier, he told himself, _better._  He needed to protect himself, protect his aspirations.  And he couldn’t face Noah, not after abandoning him that night.  It hadn’t taken much effort; they were all so busy with the end of the term that _not online_ became _not in this elevator_ and _not in this common room_ and _definitely not at this dinner table_.  And then they were less than a day from going home, the page’s residence a mess of luggage and already-packed-away stifling navy blue suits and crazy plans for the whole crowd of them to take over the Chinese place a few blocks away.  In the midst of the chaos, Kurt could hear Noah, still fiddling with that same Sting song as he passed by Room 1 with his basket of clean laundry.   
  
He tucked himself inside the room and just stood there, waiting.  When Noah looked up, Kurt smiled.  “You still sound really good.”  
  
Noah just eyeballed Kurt’s laundry.  “You seriously washed your clothes before packing?”  
  
“I know it’s all going to smell like jet fuel when I get home, but I can’t stand the idea of putting dirty clothes in my suitcase.”  Kurt wrinkled his nose.  “I’m just weird like that, I guess.”

“You’re not weird.”  Noah’s voice was soft.  He looked at Kurt.  “Put that damn basket down, and come sing with me.  You know this one, right?”

Kurt nodded, and set his basket on the floor just inside the door.  He let his eyes dart around the room.  The floor next to Noah was out.  Instead he perched hesitatingly on the edge of Noah’s bed.  “Why do you want me to sing?”

“I need to know how it sounds, with someone else’s voice, and you’re the only singer I know.”

“Okay.”  Kurt tried to relax, and nodded to Noah, who began the gentle introduction.  The song actually fit Kurt’s range well.  He didn’t embellish at all; Noah’s guitar didn’t need it.

_You'll remember me when the west wind moves  
Upon the fields of barley  
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky  
As we walk in the fields of gold_

Kurt couldn’t look at the softness that was playing on Noah’s face, so he closed his eyes into the second verse. _  
  
So she took her love  
For to gaze awhile  
Upon the fields of barley  
In his arms she fell as her hair came down  
Among the fields of gold_

Noah had been listening to Kurt hum to himself every day for the past five months.  He wasn’t even sure Kurt knew he was doing it, but it was like air to Noah.  He didn’t care about anything else.  He didn’t want confessions or truths, he just wanted the four minutes of this song, of Kurt singing _with_ him. _  
  
Will you stay with me, will you be my love  
Among the fields of barley  
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky  
As we lie in the fields of gold  
  
See the west wind move like a lover so  
Upon the fields of barley  
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth  
Among the fields of gold_

Noah really didn’t sing, except for at home to his Ma and Sarah.  But he _loved_ the bridge of this song, so he let his voice mingle hesitatingly with Kurt’s.

At the first hint of Noah’s soft baritone, Kurt’s eyes snapped open.  Noah had a _good_ voice, clear and true.  Kurt locked his eyes on Noah’s face and didn’t look away, pulling Noah into the words with him.

_I never made promises lightly  
And there have been some that I've broken  
But I swear in the days still left  
We'll walk in the fields of gold  
We'll walk in the fields of gold  
  
Many years have passed since those summer days  
Among the fields of barley  
See the children run as the sun goes down  
Among the fields of gold_

_You'll remember me when the west wind moves  
Upon the fields of barley  
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky  
When we walked in the fields of gold  
When we walked in the fields of gold  
When we walked in the fields of gold _

After the last note had died away, lost in the noise of the corridor outside, Noah crinkled his eyes at Kurt.  When he spoke, his voice was low, on the edge of intimate.  “I don’t care.  Whatever you couldn’t tell me, I don’t care.  I just . . .”

Kurt slipped off the bed and onto the floor,  stretched his legs out alongside Noah’s.  He stared at his sock-clad feet.  “Just what?”

He waited, which felt like it was becoming a theme between the two of them.  Noah was curled protectively around his guitar.  “I just don’t want you to think that I’ll run away, is all.  I want to be your friend, Kurt.”

“I don’t have a lot of friends.”  The admission hurt, more than Kurt had expected it would.

Noah let out a harsh laugh.  “I don’t think I have many friends anymore, either.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to tell you yet.”  Kurt let his head fall back against the mattress.  “Honestly, I don’t think I’m ready to really tell myself, either.”

Noah nodded, like he knew exactly what Kurt meant.  “I get that, man.”  He laughed shortly.  “I _so_ get that.”

And the thing of it was, Kurt believed him.

 

**Brown University, April 1999**

Noah pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and plotted the fastest route from his Intro to Political Theory class back to his dorm.  He was so over the rain, and there were still two weeks left in April.  His brain was about ten steps ahead of him, already thinking about the big Student Government conference over the weekend, and wondering how late he’d have to stay up tonight to finish his work for Monday, since he’d be tied up with the conference for the next three days.  He had plans to meet up with some of the other kids in the GLBTA to watch Will & Grace later, and that Keith kid in his Chem lecture kept pestering him for an actual coffee-with-a-capital-C-date instead of just a casual friends kind of thing, and _fuck_ but he didn’t have time to be shopped for his boyfriend potential right now.

When he stopped to unlock his door, there was a big note in purple dry-erase on his whiteboard.  _N- Clearing out for the weekend, up to BU to see some high school friends.  Back Sun. nite.  Hope the conference rocks.  –M_

Ah, Matt.  His almost-elusive roommate who, for a kid from California, had more friends at East Coast colleges than Noah had friends at all.  Small blessings, Noah thought to himself as he opened the door and settled into their room.  At least now he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping Matt up at night for a few days.  He’d never been able to shake the tendency towards night owl-ish-ness he’d learned from Kurt back in their page days, but it came in handy in college, that was for sure.

Noah powered up his laptop while he unpacked his backpack, tossing his battered notebook and Politics text into the middle of his bed, where they connected with his Lit and Spanish books.  _So much fucking homework_.  The timing for the conference couldn’t suck more.

He kicked his sneakers under his desk, and plopped into his chair to check his email.  He skimmed his new messages, mostly more back-and-forth about the conference, plus an email from his Spanish prof cancelling conversation hour for Monday ( _awesome!_ ).  And there, amidst all the brown.edu extensions, was the all too unfamiliar presence of an email from Kurt, time stamped sometime before dawn this morning.  Noah dealt with all the other messages first, because while emails from Kurt were rare, they were always a treat.

_From: kehummel@gw.edu_ _  
To: njpuckerman@brown.edu  
Subject: Providence!  
  
Noah-  
  
I hear there’s a student leaders conference near you this weekend.   
  
Oh, right.  At Brown.  
  
Convenient, that I have a friend who goes there.  
  
A friend who I’m sure would love to share some space on his floor for a few days.  I’ll be arriving sometime after 8 pm tonight, assuming we don’t get lost in New Jersey, and I have my own sleeping bag.  
  
Notice that I didn’t give you a whole lot of warning so you couldn’t say no.  
  
-Kurt_

 

Noah’s heart did an abbreviated time step, and he smiled.  He hadn’t seen Kurt since last summer, and even then it had only been for a brief lunch when Kurt was down in Dayton picking up some parts for his dad's garage.  They always fell into a light, easy context with each other, but Noah wasn’t sure what was going to happen this weekend.  A lot had changed for him since that last lunch.

He knocked off his Spanish translations and close to half of his lab report before dinner.  When he got back to the room, he took the time before he went out to pick up the clutter of the week, and then forced himself to finish his lab report.  He was scrabbling under his desk for his sneakers when there was a knock on his door.  He tried to get up too fast, and cracked the back of his head on the underside of the desk.

“Motherfucker.”  He was still rubbing his head and wincing when he opened the door. 

“Well.  It seems the Ivy League has done nothing to cure your potty mouth.”  Kurt was three steps back from the door, slightly sodden from the rain, a backpack over his shoulder and a sleeping bag at his feet.  And he was smiling.

“Kurt.”

“I hope you got my email.  Oh, god.  You got my email, right?”  Noah watched panic and pink spread across Kurt’s face.

“This afternoon.  It’s fine, really.  I was going out, but . . .” He waved his hand into the room, to his desk chair in the middle of the floor and his sneakers abandoned, still under the desk.  “You’re here.”  He felt his smile grow bigger with every second. 

“I’m here.”  Kurt shifted from foot to foot, and Noah finally engaged his brain enough to pull Kurt into the room and shut the door behind them. 

Noah dabbled at his politics reading while Kurt took a shower, and even though it was early-ish by both their standards, they were in bed before 11.  They had talked about a lot of things, and _around_ even more things, but Noah knew they’d have plenty of time for the important stuff later.

Except that they didn’t.

The conference kept them both crazy-busy, and it wasn’t until the party on Saturday night that they even really had a chance to be awake and in the same place for more than the duration of a workshop.  Noah found Kurt sitting on one of the benches outside of the campus center enjoying the unusually warm evening. 

“You okay?”  He held out the can of Diet Coke he’d snagged on his way outside.  Kurt took it and nodded in thanks.

“Yeah.  Tired.”  Kurt shook his head.  “It’s kind of been a long year.”

Noah sat next to him.  “I’m glad you came.  It’s been nice seeing you again.”

Kurt sighed into his soda.

“What?”  Noah wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt defensive.

“I need to ask you something.”  Kurt sounded more serious than Noah had ever heard him.

“Shoot.”

“Are you gay?”  Noah let Kurt’s words hang between them.  He felt silence settle over him, and his brain was buzzing.  He’d never actually said it.  Even to the GLBTA.  He’s just started showing up at meetings, and felt like everything else was implied.  If there was one person he _had_ to tell, openly and honestly, it was going to be Kurt.

He turned and looked Kurt dead in his eyes.  Took a deep breath.  “Yes.  I’m g-gay.”

Kurt slumped back in the bench and let out a huge breath of air.  “Oh, thank god.  I was afraid I was reading things wrong, because I apparently have the _worst_ gaydar known to man, but - I mean – I’ve kind of wondered for a while.”

“Yeah.”  Noah chuckled softly to himself.  “You helped me figure it out, you know.”

“Really.  When?”

“That first time we chatted over IM.  It was so easy, and a little flirty, and then I just _got_ what Jonah had told me, how when you’re ready to know, the knowing is easy.  And then it all made sense.”

Kurt shook his head in confusion.  “Who’s Jonah?”

“Oh, right.  He’s my cousin, my gay cousin.  He lives out in Seattle now, with his boyfriend.”

“But Noah.  You never said anything.”  Kurt sounded sad, like there had been so much lost opportunity between them when they both knew that wasn’t even close to the truth.

“I wasn’t ready.  Not then. “  Noah put his hand in the empty space between them, and tried not to smile when Kurt’s thumb barely brushed his own.  “What about you?”

“I’m still not sure I’m ready.  I don’t know how to be myself and still want the things I want in this world.”  But Kurt covered his hand anyway.  Noah didn’t mind.  They had plenty of time.

 

**Baltimore, MD, June 2002**

It was out of his way, really, but Noah felt like he couldn’t leave the East Coast after graduation without a stop in Baltimore to see Kurt.  It was supposed to be a two day visit on his way back to Ohio and an entry-level job with the state Democratic Party, but 20 minutes after Kurt rescued him from his perch on the front stoop of Kurt’s apartment building, things were so tense that Noah considered jumping back into the car and driving straight through to Columbus without stopping.  
  
It was, typically, the exact same fight they hadn’t been having over the phone and in emails and IM’s for most of the spring.  It was about Noah’s future.    
  
Kurt tried to appease him into staying with the promise of Thai takeout and a quiet evening, so Noah dropped his duffel bag in the corner and tried to make himself comfortable on Kurt’s tiny couch while they waited for food.  Kurt worked on keeping the mood light, regaling Noah with tales of his latest break-up, but that only made Noah think about the sad and silent goodbye he’d said to Owen last week.  It was never going to be a lasting thing, Noah had known that going in, but he hadn’t expected the actuality of the break-up to hurt as much as it had.  Maybe it was because Owen had initiated it, and his reasons still stung: _I can’t move to Ohio, N_  had rung in his ears for days afterward.  And here he was, getting the same judgment from Kurt.  
  
Noah tried to deflect, by asking about Kurt’s job as an aide to a young state legislator, but it made his own choice seem so glaringly wrong.  
  
“I could ask around, if you want.  Try and get you something out here.”  Kurt picked the diced pepper out of his Thai fried rice.  
  
“No thanks.  Why don’t you just order it without the pepper?”  
  
“Too much work.”  
  
Noah snorted.  “And this isn’t?”  
  
“Don’t change the subject.  You’re selling yourself short.  You’re good at what you do.  You worked on that city council thing.”  Kurt waved his fork in the air.  
  
“And now I’m going to work on other city council things, and school things.  Local politics, K.  Everyone has to start somewhere.”  
  
“Somewhere isn’t Columbus.  It’s Boston, or L.A., or New York.”  
  
“Or Washington.”  Noah could feel a headache forming between his eyes.  
  
“Yes.”  Kurt’s voice was suddenly oddly cool.  
  
“Look.  I know Ohio isn’t good enough for you.  If I had more options, it wouldn’t be good enough for me either.  But I don’t have a fucking choice, Kurt.”  Noah crumpled his napkin and tossed it into the middle of his plate.  He stood and turned to look out the single window in Kurt’s studio.  The sidewalk was cracked and there were weeds poking up in spots.  He heard the slight scrape of Kurt’s chair, and then Kurt was there, a calming hand on his arm.  
  
Kurt’s touch was fire, but Noah really couldn’t think about that right now.  The timing was never going to be good between them.  He pulled his arm away a little too fast, and Kurt looked at him with hurt eyes.  “I just don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this.”  
  
Noah shook his head.  “You wouldn’t, Mr. Full Scholarship.  I can’t ride the tails of Senate Page and an honors thesis from Brown for the rest of my life, and I can’t afford to live by my ideals.  I have loans, Kurt.  Even with a scholarship, the Ivy League isn’t cheap; my dad’s a deadbeat asshole and my sister will be off to college in two more years, and I want to be able to help her if I can.  I have to make my own way in the world, and if that means going home to Ohio and candidate meet and greets and endless hours of voter registration then that’s what I have to do.”  Noah couldn’t tell what was causing the slightly sad look on Kurt’s face.  
  
“I just.  I always thought we’d be doing this together.”  Kurt wrapped his arms around himself.    
  
“Someday, K.  Someday we’ll be doing it together.  We just have to wait a little bit longer.”  Noah felt like he didn’t have a choice; if he didn’t hold onto that, he’d never survive his exile in Columbus.  
  
  
 **Columbus, OH, Halloween 2007  
**  
Noah ran a hand through his hair, sipped at the cooled coffee in his Brown Alumni Association mug, and tried not to think too hard about how long it had been sitting on his desk.  It was closing in on 9 pm and he still had at least two hours’ worth of work.  He hated campaign season, and wondered absently whether it would be a good idea to sublet his apartment for the next year and just live at the office.    
  
The Democrats were going to eat their young before this was all over, and that never played well in Ohio.  The party needed Ohio, and if anyone could deliver, it was Noah.    
  
He was young.  Too young, some people thought, but that was what made him so effective.  He could walk into a high school auditorium or a college quad and have the instant credibility that came with being under 30.  The same people who bemoaned poor turnout among 18-25 year old voters could turn and point to Noah as the one who got it right in Ohio.  And Noah knew that he just had to hang in for one more election.  If he could get it together, get his people out and mobilize and fucking hand the party Ohio on a silver platter, courtesy of those same kids the bigwigs thought were too apathetic to care, he’d finally, _finally_ be recognized and rewarded.  
  
But he had to survive another year, first.  
  
Noah sighed, sunk into his chair and pulled out the first of three polls he needed to work through before he could go home.  Two pages in, he looked up as a shadow crossed his doorway.  Kurt, his khakis and button-down wrinkled and his tie half-undone, leaning against the door frame and smiling through tired eyes.  
  
“Hey, stranger.”  He sounded like Noah felt.  
  
“K.”  Noah nodded.  “Come on in.  Please.”  He held up the sheaf of papers he was attacking with a red pen.  “Polling.”  
  
“Ah, so I’m rescuing you then.”  Kurt practically dropped into the rickety folding chair that served as Noah’s “guest” chair.    
  
Noah let his voice go so soft that he didn’t think Kurt could hear it.  “You always rescue me.”  
  
Kurt just nodded, because they’d been doing this dance of offhand comments and ill-timed chemistry since they were 16.  It was just the way things were between them.  
  
They sat in silence for a few moments, and then Kurt stood and planted both his hands on Noah’s paper-covered desk.  “I have a proposition for you.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Don’t say no before you know what I’m going to ask,” Kurt scolded, his tone light.  
  
“One more year, K.  If I can prove myself with this, _here_ , then I’ll be in the mix.  Make the jump to the national party.”  Noah _knew_ it was true.  
  
“White House, Noah.   _White.  House._  How can you say no to that?”  
  
“I think you’ve been drinking the Kool-Aid too long.  Your woman is one of _eight_ candidates.  Why would I leave a sure thing here to take a chance with what might be the first failed campaign of the season?”  Noah shook his head.  “I can’t do it, Kurt.”  
  
“Sure you can.  I know you think you owe the state party something, but you can bet that if the tables were turned, the state party would have no such loyalty.  Come join the campaign.  The Congresswoman wants you.”  Kurt turned on his best, most charming smile.  
  
“The Congresswoman doesn’t know me from Big Bird.”  Noah leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes against the fluorescent light.    
  
“Okay.  Point.  But she does know _me._  I’m the only one who’s been with her since her in the days in the State House.”  Kurt took a breath.  “I’m not an aide anymore, Noah.”  
  
Noah’s eyes snapped open.  “What, then?”  
  
“Speechwriting.”  Kurt’s face lit up.  “It was kind of a fluke, one day when half the office was out with the flu.”  He shrugged a little self-effacing shrug and kept on.  “Turns out I’m good at it.  But therein lies the problem.  We need a campaign manager.”  
  
Noah knew that Kurt had been half-managing the upstart campaign that was existing on a bare bones budget of five and ten dollar donations, mostly because nobody else wanted the job.  The implication being, of course, that nobody anywhere wanted anything to do with a too-liberal single-term congresswoman who was basically thumbing her nose at the party faithful.  Even so, Noah’s heart thudded in his chest from a combination of fear and excitement, but he still shook his head.  “I can’t, Kurt.”  
  
“I know you’re not one for taking risks.  But, god, Noah.  Take this risk.  Take it with me.”  Noah could feel Kurt’s energy from across the desk, and it was almost contagious.  “You have a gift with the demographic we’re trying to reach.  Every poll we’ve done tells us the same thing.  If voters under 30 get out in the primaries in record numbers and _vote for us_ , the other 7 candidates split the votes and we get the nomination.”  
  
Noah shook his head.  “That’s not how it’s done, K, and you know it.”    
  
Kurt’s gaze turned molten in seconds.  “Fuck how it’s done.”  He turned towards the door, and when he wheeled back to face Noah he was positively _brimming_ with passion.  And Noah was suddenly, insanely, overwhelmingly jealous.  “ _This_ is our time.   _This_ is our chance.  Do you remember when we used to talk about what it would have been like if the Kennedy brothers and Dr. King hadn’t been assassinated?”  
  
Noah nodded, remembering late night phone calls in college and the all too infrequent calls that came now, Kurt on his cell phone in the back of a bus on a dark highway, and the way they would talk with reverence about _what might have been_ and _where would we be now_.  The possibility, the _idea_ that things could be different, was heady.  “I remember.”  
  
“This is our chance to have that.  Maybe not out last chance, but our _best_ chance.”  Kurt sat again, and jiggled his leg.  “Please, Noah.”  
  
Noah sighed and dropped his head into his hands.  When he finally looked up at Kurt, his head clear, there was only one thing to say.  “Give me the night to think about it.”  
  
“We’ve got an event in the morning, and then we’re on the bus to Indianapolis at noon.”  He winked at Noah.  “I’ll save you a seat.”  
  
Damn, Kurt was pushy.  “I haven’t said yes yet.”  
  
Kurt stood stepped to the door.  He looked pointedly at Noah and nodded.  “You will.”  
  
  
  
 **Election Night 2008, Baltimore MD**  
  
Noah had been closed up in his office for two hours, alternatingly pacing and popping Tums and coloring in the whiteboard map that hung on his wall.   The East Coast and a chunk of the Midwest were already a patchwork of red and blue, and the first firm results were starting to trickle in from the Mountains and West Coast.  But through it all, there was Ohio, stark white against blue Pennsylvania and Indiana and red West Virginia and Kentucky.  He could see Kurt, tucked into a corner plugged into his iPod and typing frantically on his laptop, working last minute edits to the only speech that mattered: the acceptance.  Noah didn’t want to think about what would happen if they ended up needing the concession speech that had been sitting, neglected, for the last week.  
  
The crew at MSNBC were suddenly all talking over each other, and Noah watched the area west of the Mississippi light up mostly red, with beacons of blue in Colorado and Nevada, and New Mexico the ominous gray of Noah’s least favorite term, _too close to call_.  He sighed and started coloring, and then worked his vote tally in the empty space at the bottom of the map.  He had just finished the last white speck of Texas when his iPhone buzzed across his desk.  He grabbed at it, thinking it was a call, but it was only a text.  The best text.  From an NBC staffer he’d networked with during the campaign who kept him in a better loop than he’d have been in otherwise.  
  
 _You’ve got Ohio._

  
Noah looked back at the TV, but all the reporters had poker faces and Ohio was still white.  He opened a new message window and texted Kurt.  
  
 _Get in here.  I think it’s starting._  
  
He gnawed three more Tums, and bounced on the balls of his feet.  When his door opened, he pulled Kurt inside and handed him the blue marker.  “Color Ohio, please!”    
  
Kurt smiled at him.  “As you wish.”  
  
Kurt was still scribbling when Noah’s phone buzzed again.  
  
 _You’ve got about a minute before your world explodes.  Congratulations._  
  
Noah wrapped his arm around Kurt’s chest and held his phone up.  He felt Kurt go boneless and sink backwards against him for the briefest of moments.  When Kurt turned to face Noah, his eyes were brimming with tears.   Noah could see him, trying to form words, but none were forthcoming.  Noah just pulled Kurt into his side, and turned them both to face the TV.  “I think we’re going to want to see this.”  
  
The political reporter’s voice was thick with emotion.  “With polls closed, or about to close, in all states, we are ready to call the 2008 presidential election for Democratic Congresswoman Kelly Jackson.”  
  
Kurt was crying in full, then, and Noah could hear cheers and whoops erupting from the volunteer party up the hall.  Noah felt numb with disbelief.  He held Kurt closer, and talked into his hair.  
  
“Thank you.   _Thank you_ for talking me into this.”  
  
“I told you, this is our time now,” Kurt said through tears.  “We can make the change, now.”  
  
Noah just turned Kurt to face him and started at him for a few seconds.  He could feel his blood pounding, his pulse racing.  He could see a slideshow of every missed opportunity and bad chemistry and worse timing, and he didn’t even think about it.  He grabbed Kurt’s face between his hands and kissed him.  Hard.  
  
He heard Kurt gasp, and felt him lean in and, for the briefest of moments, _kiss him back_.  Noah’s brain jumped on the thought of _Kurt’s kissing me_ like he’d never been kissed before.  _No_ , his mind reasoned.  _You’ve never been kissed by the man you love before_. 

Oh.  _Oh_.  Love. 

Noah let himself fall into that idea for a moment, relishing the feel of Kurt against his body, under his hands and mouth.  But just as suddenly as the realization hit him, Kurt was gone, across the room with his hand on the doorknob, muttering about finishing the speech.

Noah crumbled in Kurt’s absence.  He was suddenly adrift, feeling the keen loss of something he hadn’t even known he’d wanted.  No, not just wanted, he thought as he listened to the party down the hall and the chattering of the newscasters on the TV.  _Needed._

He ran his hand roughly over his face and sighed.  The time was never going to be right for them. 

 


	2. Part I: September

**Part I: September**  
  
 **Labor Day, 2010**  
  
 ** _The Rainbow Politico Blog_**  
  
 _Hello, dear readers.  We here at Rainbow Politico, and pretty much all of you, know that the worst kept secret in Democratic politics inside the Beltway is that a certain young White House Deputy Chief of Staff and the President’s top speechwriter are both members of the tribe.  But are the other rumors true as well?  Is there romance blooming in the White House?  We’ll do some digging, and keep you updated._  
  
 _As always,_  
 _Rainbow Politico_  
  
Kurt knew he should have just gone back to his apartment, but the pull of being able to do actual work was just too strong.  The President and most of the rest of the staff wouldn’t be back to work until Tuesday morning, and Kurt still had most of the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell speech to write before the President’s meeting with the Servicemember’s Legal Defense Network on Thursday.  So he directed the cab driver to the side staff entrance.  
  
The halls were quiet, and the junior staff cubicles and bullpens were dark and empty.  When Kurt rounded the corner into the senior staff corridor, the wheels of his suitcase squeaking on the tile, he could see light flooding out from a single open door.  He let his feet carry him a fraction faster, and he set his suitcase outside the door before slipping into the bright sanctuary of  Noah’s office.  And found Noah, head on his crossed arms, sound asleep.  
  
Kurt dropped into one of the office chairs and leaned over to run a light finger over the back of Noah’s neck, and couldn’t help but laugh lightly as Noah squirmed in half-sleep and then lifted his head to glare at Kurt with sleepy eyes.  
  
“You suck.”  Noah’s voice was gravelly.  
  
“What’s the matter?  Couldn’t sleep outside of these walls?”    
  
Noah rubbed at his eyes.  “Can’t sleep anywhere.”  He gestured to the stack of official reports and emails polling data that was cluttering the parts of his desk that weren’t taken up by his computer.  “Too much work.  And it was nice and quiet here this weekend.  Speaking of, how was Lima?”  
Kurt leaned back in his chair.  “The usual.  It gets easier, though, going back.  I never thought it would.  Shows how much I know.”  
  
Noah nodded.  “It probably helps that you work _here_.  Everything else seems normal after this.”  
  
Kurt shook his head.  “What world do you live in?   _Nothing_ seems normal after this.”  He put a hand on the top of the stack of papers.  “DADT?”  
  
“What else?”  Noah ran a hand through his hair.  “How’s the speech coming?”  
  
“It’s not.  Why else would I be here?”  
  
Noah laughed lightly.  “Because you can’t sleep anywhere but your office, either.”  
  
“Yeah.”  Kurt sighed.  “You’re probably right.  But I _do_ need to finish the speech.”  
  
“And I have all of this stuff to deal with.”  Noah waved his hand at his desk.  “This is going to be a terrible fight.  Do you think she knows that?”    
  
“I don’t think she’d have it any other way.  She’s been like this since Maryland, always looking for the next big fight.”  Kurt sat up in his chair.  “I don’t think I would have stayed so long otherwise.”  
  
“Do you want to work?  In here, I mean?”  
  
Kurt nodded, and pulled his laptop out of his messenger bag.  “I’d like that.  A lot.”  
  
They worked in silence.  Kurt was always calm and focused when he was near Noah, and he was able to crank out the heart of the speech before he let his hands rest on his keyboard, spent and tired.  He looked up at Noah, who was staring at a blank spot on the wall, fat yellow highlighter dangling forgotten from his fingers.  Kurt snapped his fingers in Noah’s face, and tried not to laugh when Noah startled and dropped the highlighter.  
  
Kurt saved his work and shut down his laptop.  “C’mon, cowboy.  I’m taking you to breakfast.”  
  
“Shit.  It can’t be breakfast time already.  It’s still dark.”    
  
Kurt tucked his laptop back into his bag and stood, stretching his back.  “Waffles, Noah.  Don’t argue with the man who’s going to buy you waffles.”  
  
“Low blow, K.  You know I can’t resist waffles.”  He fixed Kurt with a sideways smile, and Kurt felt his stomach flip-flop.  He kind of hated the way he still responded to Noah, like he was a love-struck teenager.  He especially hated fighting the feelings now, when he felt like he were old enough to know better _and_ when there was too much at risk outside of their own personal lives and no time for the distraction of long-smoldering attraction.  
  
Kurt left his suitcase in his own office while he waited for Noah to close up, and they walked in silence through the ghostly halls.  When they emerged into the pre-dawn darkness, the air held the barest promise of fall, and Kurt felt suddenly invigorated.  Brazen.  He let his hand brush Noah’s so lightly that he wasn’t sure Noah even felt it, not until they reached the 24 hour diner five blocks away and Noah held the door for him, and let his hand linger a moment more than was decent at the small of Kurt’s back as he ushered Kurt inside.  
  
Kurt could still feel the pink on his cheeks as they took seats in a secluded corner booth, and he tried not to look too hard at Noah over the top edge of his menu.  Noah caught him looking anyway, and just nodded, and Kurt’s stomach flip-flopped again.   _What the hell?_  He was about to say something when the waitress appeared, took their orders for waffles and a shared order of extra crispy bacon, poured them two cups of the strongest coffee that side of the Capital, and disappeared again.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Noah just shook his head.  His gaze was piercing, and Kurt understood instantly.   _Not here, not now_.  
  
Kurt could barely focus on his waffles.  The energy between them was palpable, coursing like a current, and Kurt couldn’t help but wonder _why now_.  He could feel the gentle press of Noah’s leg against his own under the table, and Kurt let his fingers linger an extra few seconds as he pushed the syrup across the table.  Noah’s hand against his was warm, like always, and when Kurt caught his eyes in the moment after he pulled away, they were dark pools.    
  
When Kurt had eaten his fill, and Noah had drained his second cup of coffee, Kurt nodded at the door.  
  
“Shall we?”  He tried to make his voice light, joking, because he had no idea what to say about anything that was happening, but the words felt buried under an intensity that made Kurt a little uncomfortable.  
  
“Please,” Noah choked out.  
  
Kurt laid down cash for their bill, and once they were out on the street he looked past Noah at the sun peeking its way into the sky.  “Let me walk you home?”  
  
“That would be . . . good.”  
  
Kurt let go a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and turned to follow Noah the half-mile to his apartment.  They walked closer than was necessary on empty sidewalks, brushing shoulders from time to time and letting the world come to life around them.  Kurt wasn’t in any hurry, so when they reached the end of Noah’s block he turned them both in the direction of the brilliant pinks and oranges lighting the sky over the Washington Monument.  He wrapped his arms around Noah from behind, and tucked his chin on Noah’s shoulder.  
  
Noah’s voice was a sigh in his ear.  “God, I love this city.”  
  
Shivers echoed down Kurt’s spine.  “Me, too.”  He took a deep breath, and let it go with a puff of air.  
  
“What?”  Noah turned in Kurt’s arms, and Kurt didn’t think.  He moved closer rather than away, and put his lips on Noah’s.  He half expected Noah to pull away, so he was beyond shocked to feel Noah’s hand, strong on the back of his head, holding him in the kiss.  Kurt yielded to the gentle pressure of Noah’s mouth against his, and lost himself.  
  
It felt to Kurt like they’d been there, kissing on the street corner, for a lifetime when Noah finally pulled away.  Kurt rested his forehead on Noah’s chest, and felt the gentle rumble of a laugh bubble out of Noah’s chest.  
  
“Christ, K.  What the hell took you so long?”  
  
***  
  
Noah wanted to devour Kurt.  He wanted to lose himself, turn hands and mouth and all his earthly attention to nothing but Kurt’s breath and touch and body.  And then his brain kicked in and urged him to move.  
  
“C’mon.”  He grabbed Kurt’s hand and pulled him the rest of the way up the street.  He fumbled with his key in the front door of his building, and almost tripped over his own feet as he led Kurt up the two flights of stairs to the apartment.  He barely got the door kicked closed before he was tugging at the hem of Kurt’s t-shirt and Kurt was trying in vain to cement their mouths together.  There was an awkward dance of limbs, and much fumbling before Noah pulled away and found his voice.  “Just stop fucking _moving_ , will you?”  
  
Kurt laughed then, lush and full, and Noah was buried under a wave of _oh, god, **finally**_.    
  
Noah could feel the heat in his own eyes when he stared - blatantly stared - at Kurt in a way he hadn’t dared to do in the whole of their history together.  His mouth was suddenly dry, and he was full of fourteen years of hopes and fears and wants, but he couldn’t move.  He could only stare.  
  
“Are you okay?”  Kurt’s words were slightly hushed, almost reverent.    
  
Noah scrubbed at his face with his hand.  “Yeah.  I just.  Why _now_ , Kurt?  We’ve been flirting with this forever.  And the only other time one of us tried this, you ran on me.”  
  
“It was _too much_ , last time.  And I didn’t know if I liked it because of the moment or because it was you.”  
  
Noah inched closer, grabbed for Kurt’s hand and pulled him tight into his arms.  “It hasn’t mattered for me.  It’s always been you.”    
  
Noah almost couldn’t believe the way Kurt just about came apart at his words.   _Words_ , for fuck’s sake.  “God, if I’d known I’d get that kind of a response, I would have told you back in high school.”  
  
Kurt shook his head.  “I wasn’t ready for you in high school.”  
  
Noah kissed Kurt then, hard and full and overflowing with longing, and he felt the rest of Kurt’s defenses crumble under his mouth and hands.  
  
They moved together in a haze, somehow managing buttons and zippers and the agonizing divestment of shoes and clothes without tripping or even moving more than fractions of an inch apart.  Kurt’s skin was hot under Noah’s hands, and he could feel Kurt’s pulse beating under his lips when he kissed the side of Kurt’s neck.  “So worth the wait,” he mumbled half to himself as Kurt’s hands fluttered against his shoulders.  
  
“Me, too.”  It sounded like Kurt was having problems connecting his brain to his mouth.  
  
“Lose all your words, Mr. Speechwriter?”  
  
“Shut.  Up.  Less talking, more of - _oh, holy shit_!”  Kurt cried out as Noah ran his thumb over the head of Kurt’s cock.    
  
“More of that?”  Noah laughed wickedly, feeling very pleased with himself and not unlike a teenage boy in that moment.   _I guess, in some ways, we are still that way with each other_ , he thought in the moment before Kurt surged forward and pushed him back onto the bed with a thump and a squeak.  
  
“More.  Of everything.   _Please_.”  
  
“As you wish.”  
  
***  
  
Kurt couldn’t get enough.  There simply wasn’t enough contact, not enough kissing or touching or skin against skin to satisfy the overwhelming urge he had to just fall into Noah and never look back.  He felt like he was a little bit outside of himself as he trailed wet, warm kisses down the side of Noah’s neck and across his chest.  He could feel Noah’s hands, busy on his back and across his chest, leaving sparking trails of electricity everywhere they touched.    
  
Kurt felt like he was on fire, like he was going to explode from all of the years of untapped _longing_.  
  
“I want you.  God, Noah.”  He felt Noah shiver beneath him, come alive at his words, hungry and brave and full of demands.  Some of them were silent, the way his eyes burned when he looked at Kurt and the way his body moved, always forward and on the edge of demanding.  And then there were his own words, whispered into Kurt’s hair and skin and the cool empty of the air around them: _love you_ and _want you_ and _I never thought . ..._  Words that made Kurt’s eyes prick with tears even before Noah was writhing and open beneath him, words made almost filthy by the press and surge of their bodies together and turned holy in the echoing aftermath of their collective release.  
  
Kurt’s tears were genuine then, full and flowing and mixing with the sweat cooling on both of their skins.  He rested a trembling hand on Noah’s chest and sighed into the bright of the new day.  
  
“There’s no going back now, is there?”  His voice felt wrecked.  
  
“No.”  Kurt felt Noah’s head shake, heard his rough sigh.  “We couldn’t have picked a worse time for this, you know.”  
  
“Nobody ever claimed that our timing was good.”  Kurt shivered as Noah traced circles on his back.  
  
“True.  But.  I think . . .”  Noah let his voice drift off, like he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.  
  
But Kurt knew.  “You think we should keep this a secret?”  
  
“If we can.  With DADT, and the mid-terms coming up?  If this got out, the whole train could derail.”  
  
Kurt knew Noah was right.  Even though they were both quietly out, and had been since the campaign, the reality of two of the President’s senior staff being gay and being _together_ was a different proposition entirely.  It wasn’t a laughing matter, any of it, but Kurt was still a little giddy from endorphins, so he giggled into Noah’s chest.  “It’s a good plan, baby, but there might be a problem.”  
  
Noah’s voice was husky again in his ear.  “Yeah?  What’s that?”  
  
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you.”

***

Kurt was late for work.  He’d overslept his alarm, and instead of the three hours of quiet writing he’d planned on he was skittering through the staff gate with barely 5 minutes to spare before Senior Staff.  He dropped his stuff in his office and began navigating the maze of corridors and offices on the way to the Chief of Staff’s office.  He was rounding the last corner into the reception area when Noah sidled up beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders and dangling a venti Starbucks cup in front of him.  Kurt sniffed, and nodded.  “Mocha?”  
  
“Still your favorite?”  Noah sounded pleased with himself.  
  
“Always.  Thank you.”  He took the cup and sipped lightly.  “How are you this morning?”  
  
Noah leaned in a little closer as they paused just outside the office.  “I’m excellent, baby,” he whispered, “and you’re the reason.”  
  
Kurt felt himself blush in the instant that he crossed the threshold, and he untangled himself from Noah’s arm before taking a spot along the far wall.  Noah stayed near the door, but Kurt could feel his gaze from across the room.  
  
Chief of Staff Andrea Waters dashed into the office then, shrugging off her coat and bag at the expense of her own Starbucks cup, which splashed a river of coffee over the back of her hand.  “Goddamn."  She sucked at the burn, and ran her gaze around the room.  
  
“Good weekend?”  Her voice was strong, but her eyes were playful.  At everyone’s nods, she clapped her hands together.  “Great.  So.  8 weeks until the midterms.  We’ve got the budget -” the room erupted in groans.  “I know, I know.  We always have the budget.  And we have our pet project.  Where do we stand?”  
  
“On what?”  Press Secretary AJ Hammonds poked her head out from where she was lost behind Deputy Communications Director Lyle Gardner.  
  
Andrea waved her hand around.  “Any of it.”  
  
Lyle just scoffed.  “The budget is a mess.  But I think we can knock enough heads together to actually pass something permanent instead of just another continuing resolution.”  
  
“Excellent.  Lyle.  You’re on head-knocking duty.  Noah?”  
  
“I’m meeting with SLDN leadership and soldiers fighting discharge for most of the week.  Next week I’ll start on the Hill.  I know we have the party in our pocket on this one.  If we can swing enough Republicans to get it out of committee, I think we can get it passed.  I’ll have a better idea when I start taking meetings next week, and then we can talk attack strategy.”    
  
Andrea nodded.  “Good.  Kurt?  How’s the speech?”  
  
Kurt took a sip of his mocha before talking.  “Pretty much complete.  I’ll have it done and polished by the end of the day.  Copy to you and the President?”  
  
Andrea nodded.  “That would be great.  AJ?”  
  
“The summer haze will be gone from the press room today.  I can guarantee you they’ll want to know only one thing.”  AJ fixed Kurt with a bright smile.  “When did Noah and Kurt finally get over themselves and get together?”  
  
Kurt blushed to the roots of his hair.  He couldn’t help but laugh as Noah turned around and banged his forehead on the wall.  Kurt could hear him muttering _son of a bitch_ under his breath.  
  
“Really?”  Andrea was smiling at them both.  “Congratulations!”  
  
Kurt heard Noah again, _oh my god, this isn’t happening right now._  
  
Lyle rubbed his hands together.  “So, Andrea, is anyone left standing in the pool?”  
  
Kurt snapped to attention.  “What pool?”  
  
“Oh, god, you guys had a fucking _pool?”_  Noah looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.  
  
“I believe the only one who made it past Election Day was the President.”  Andrea was practically bouncing with mirth.  She looked at Kurt and Noah in turn.  “Who wants to tell her she’s the winner?”  
  
***  
  
Working up the hall from Kurt had been hard enough when they were just friends with attraction.  Now that they were sleeping together, Noah found his focus wandering constantly.  It wasn’t just the time he spent looking for the telltale movement of Kurt’s form in the hall through the window in his office.  It was the before-work coffee exchanges and the late night echoes of Kurt’s soft voice singing along to Broadway ballads and jazz standards on the nights he worked in the office instead of at home.  
  
Tonight the music was anything but gentle.  It was guitar riffs and drums and the pounding angst-fest that was _Rent_.  And the sure sign that something was wrong: Kurt wasn’t singing along.  
  
Noah had no idea what had transpired in the hours he was out of the office, up on the Hill managing meetings between discharged gay soldiers and the Senate leadership.  Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.  And Noah didn’t need more _not good_ in his world.    
  
He didn’t knock, just pushed his way into Kurt’s office with an arm extended.  “I come bearing peace.  Or at least dinner.”  
  
Kurt eyed the bag in his hand.  “Please tell me it’s a Spinach pie from that Greek place that puts feta in them?”  
  
Noah nodded.  “And baklava.”  
  
“Mm.”  Kurt poked in the bag, pulling out grease-stained paper bundles.  “I don’t suppose there’s a mocha hiding in here anywhere?”  
  
Noah shook his head.  “Not if you’re going to sleep tonight.”  
  
Kurt fixed him with a stare.  “I thought we covered this when we were 16.  Stress means no sleep.”  
  
Noah pushed the door closed and pulled Kurt to him, holding him gently to his chest.  “Baby.  The speech was perfect.  Why are you stressed?”  
  
Kurt pulled away and reached blindly for his desktop, grappling until he put his hand on a thick, stapled packet.  Noah knew before he even looked.  
  
“ _Fuck_.  When?”  
  
“Friday morning.  14 days, a Midwest and mountain swing.  Stops in key districts.”  Kurt let his head drop back to Noah’s shoulder again.  
  
“Will you at least be able to use the same basic speech?”  That would make things the tiniest fraction easier.  
  
Kurt nodded slightly.  “I think so.  Andrea thinks so, at least.  But that call is ultimately up to the President.”  
  
“I’m sorry, baby.”  Noah held on to Kurt a little tighter for a moment before releasing him.  “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”  
  
They ended up sitting on the floor, Kurt nestled into the v of Noah’s extended legs, listening to the end of the _Rent_ soundtrack and sharing the spinach pie, an order of fries, and the honey-sweet nutty layers of baklava.  When Kurt had sucked the last honey stickiness off his thumb, he leaned back into Noah’s embrace.  “How was your day?”  
  
Noah sighed.  Being with Kurt, even something as simple as eating, calmed him more than he’d realized was possible.  “Utter shit.  I don’t . . .” he paused in frustration, gathered his thoughts, and tried again.  “I managed this meeting today, some of the Republican leadership, and three West Point cadets who resigned their commissions.  They’re just kids, and they were ready to give their lives for this country, and the leadership just looked at them like they were nothing.  Like they were worthless because they either refused to lie or couldn’t change who they love.”  
  
Kurt’s hand was gentle on his arm.  “You can’t change being gay.”  
  
“I know that, K.  What slays me is that no matter how evolved things appear, there are still people out there who _don’t_ know that.”  Noah felt outrage simmering under his skin.  “I just want better for them.  Those kids.  All the soldiers who’ve already lost everything.”  
  
“That’s why we’re all pushing so hard for this, baby.  We thought the time was right.”  Kurt sounded dejected.  “Were we wrong?”  
  
“No.  We weren’t wrong.  The cadets were kind of stunned, I think.  But then, when we were leaving?  We got held up in the corridor.”  Noah closed his eyes and thought about the navy-suited kid who was loitering around them as they tried to manage a hasty escape from judgment.  “There was this page.  He kind of reminded me of you.  He couldn’t stop looking at me.”  
  
“What did he want?”  
  
“To thank me.”  Noah shifted, and Kurt shifted with him.    
  
“For what?”  
  
“For being out.  For being someone he could look up to.  And there I am, waiting for this elevator with these cadets, and the kid was thanking _me_.”  He ran a hand through his hair in both frustration and exhaustion.  “I feel like I’m just treading water.”  
  
Kurt gripped his hand, tight.  “Andrea gave you this because she knew you could get it done.  We all know you can get it done.”  When Noah didn’t respond, Kurt continued.  “You doubt yourself too much.”  
  
Noah shook his head.  “I dunno, K.  I’m not . . . I can’t wow them with words like you can.  I’m just me.”  
  
“Exactly.  You’re just you.  You have a gift for people, baby.  They trust you, they believe you.   _That’s_ why you’re perfect for this fight.  If you tell them that repeal is right, they’ll listen.”  Kurt started gathering up the paper wrappers and napkins from their dinner, and Noah stood up, stretched his back, and wandered over to the small display of family pictures on Kurt’s bookshelf.    
  
“Your family doesn’t care?”  He’d only met Kurt’s family a handful of times over the years.  They were nice people.  His dad ran a garage and tire shop, his step-mother was a nurse, and his step-brother, Finn, taught middle school social studies and coached football outside of Columbus.    
  
“What, that I’m gay?”  Kurt stuffed the trash into the can under his desk, and came up behind Noah and wrapped his arms around his waist.  
  
“No.  But that you’re this pretty public figure, and while you’re not shouting it from the rooftops, you’re not hiding yourself either.”  Noah let his head fall back against Kurt’s shoulder and sighed.  
  
He felt Kurt shrug against him.  “They’re proud of me.  I think my desire for this crazy life is more baffling to them than anything else.  But they’re proud of me.  I think,” he laughed softly in Noah’s ear, “my dad and Carole are hoping I’ll meet a nice man and settle down and have grandbabies for them.  Since Finn is perfectly content in bachelorhood.”  
  
“Well.  That says a lot.”    
  
Kurt barely restrained a snort.  “Yeah.  It says that I apparently ooze marriage potential.”  
  
Noah turned and pulled Kurt into a deep, gentle kiss.  “Not with this job, baby.”  His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed back the rest of his thought.   _Let’s talk in six years_ presumed a lot, the least of which was the President’s re-election in two years and the biggest was Noah’s constant, nagging wonder over whether their relationship could survive six more years of pressure-cooker days and work-filled nights and the endless travel and party politics.  
  
But Kurt seemed to hear his thoughts anyway.  He whispered into Noah’s ear, and the hum of his words sent shivers down Noah’s spine.  “We waited 14 years, Noah.  Six more isn’t going to break us.”  
  
Noah just shook his head in a sea of self-doubt and exhaustion.  “It might.”  
  
Kurt just held him tighter.  “I won’t let it.”  
  
***  
  
Kurt was bedded down in the back of the campaign bus, stretched awkwardly across two seats with his laptop balanced on his knees.  He was supposed to be working on the modifications to the speech for Omaha, but he was really just watching the lights from passing cars flicker in the rain.  Every few minutes, he would highlight and edit a line of text, but his heart just wasn’t in the rewrite.  
  
He listened to the junior aides playing cards near the front of the bus.  It reminded him of the campaign, and he suddenly felt incredibly weary.  He pulled out his phone and dialed Noah’s cell.  He picked up on the second ring, and he sounded lost.  “Hey, you.  Where are you?”  
  
“On the road to Omaha.  You?”  Kurt leaned his head against the cool glass of the bus window and closed his eyes.  
  
“Um.  In the office?”  Kurt didn’t like the way Noah’s voice edged up into a question.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
I- hold on-”  Kurt could hear rustling, and mumbling, and whispers before Noah was back, voice slightly more clear.  “Yeah, I’m in the office.”  
  
“Someone was there with you.  I can call back.”  Kurt didn’t want to, but he would if he had to.  
  
“No, no.  Don’t!”  Noah was starting to sound frantic.  
  
“What’s going on?  It can’t be really bad because the bus is still quiet.”  
  
“It’s bad.”  Noah’s voice went flat, disaffected.  “But not for anyone else.  Just us.”  
  
“You and me us.”  It didn’t need to be a question, because Kurt already knew the answer.  
  
“Yeah.  An email, this morning.  I’ve been dealing with it piecemeal all day.  Anonymous, bounced around from server to server over half of Europe, but the cyber guys tracked it back to the Capital.  Someone there thinks you and I are fifteen varieties of evil.”  
  
“Any ideas on who?”  
  
“I didn’t think anyone knew, outside of Andrea, AJ, Lyle, and the President.”  Kurt could hear the bewilderment in Noah’s voice.    
  
Kurt thought for a moment, about lingering looks in hallways and through open office doors.  About the handful of times they’d been in mixed company and one or the other of them had to inch away from a leaning shoulder or almost-roaming hand.  About the day the reporter from the Chicago Tribune almost caught them in hidden alcove between the press bullpen and the briefing room.  
And about Friday morning before Kurt had left on this trip, when the vice-chairman of the DNC had stumbled upon them on his way to the Oval Office.  They were trying to say goodbye as unobtrusively as possible, but in a place where the walls had eyes even an innocent hand on a shoulder had the potential to be too visible.  Kurt had seen the way the man looked at them, eyes full of judgment and a hatred Kurt hadn’t expected.  He had ducked away from Noah then, ashamed at himself even though he knew the risks of letting their relationship become public.  
  
“The DNC guy,” Kurt began, dropping his voice to a whisper.  “You didn’t see the way he looked at us.”  
  
“Who, Crandall?”  Noah sounded surprised.  “We weren’t _doing_ anything, K.”  
  
“We were doing enough.”    
  
Noah scoffed in his ear.  “Yeah, like touching your shoulder means we’re fucking.”  
  
“ _Noah_!  For people who hate like that, the fact that we even exist is enough.  That we refuse to be closeted makes it even worse.  And touching, well.”  Kurt tucked his phone into his shoulder and rummaged in his messenger bag for the jumbo-sized bottle of ibuprofen he carried with him.  Now he had a headache.  
  
There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Kurt almost thought that the call had been disconnected.  But then Noah’s voice reached him through the distance.  He was barely whispering.  “Hey, K?”  
  
“I’m here, baby.  What?”  
  
“I’m going to forward you something I think you’ll want to see.  Remember that page?”  
  
“The one from your meeting last week?”  
  
“Uh huh.  I can’t- you- you just need to see this.  Go read it and call me back when you’re done.”  
  
The line went dead at the same time Kurt’s email notification chimed.  The only text from Noah was _This is bigger than the DNC guy_ in front of a series of email headers.  The text was brief, intelligent, and clearly concerned.  
  
 _From: d.hamilton@gmail.com  
To: noah.puckerman@whitehouse.gov  
Subject: Senator Brennan  
  
Mr. Puckerman:  
  
We met last week at the Capital.  I’m the Senate page who talked with you by the elevators.  I’m assigned to Senator Brennan, and I think he or one of his staff  may have sent you a threatening email.  I didn’t witness one being sent, but I’ve heard he and his staff talking about it in the office the past two days.  
  
I don’t know exactly what he knows, or why he hates gay people so much.  I do know that he’s the one holding up the repeal bill in committee, but mostly because the other Republicans don’t want to upset him so close to the elections.  
  
Or that’s what I hear, at least.  
  
I thought you might want to know about the email.  As for the rest, I hope it helps you win this fight.  
  
Daniel Hamilton  
_  
Kurt felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips.  Pages were largely invisible, and he didn’t think anyone realized how much they actually saw and heard.  This kid was brave.    
  
Kurt hit redial on his phone.  He barely waited for Noah’s greeting.  “What are you going to do?”  
  
“Ah.  I think I’m going to sit on this, for now.  Do a little digging.  See what I can find out about a lot of things.  Like, does Brennan have a connection with Crandall.  And, if I can leverage Brennan’s hatred somehow.”  Kurt could hear apprehension in Noah’s voice, and he jumped on it.  
  
“You sound . . . I don’t know.  Unhappy?”  
  
“I hate playing this damned game.  You know, the ‘who can we screw over to get what we want’ game.  I hate that someone is doing it to me - _to us_ \- and I hate that I have to resort to it to get what I want.”  Kurt knew that about Noah, how much he just wanted politics to be open and honest and above back-room dealings.  
  
“You know I love your idealism, right?”  Kurt couldn’t help the smile that crept into his voice.    
  
“I like to think I’m a little more jaded than you are,” he replied with his own faint laugh.  
  
“Sometimes you are.  But the important stuff?  You believe in it more than most.”  
  
Noah’s voice was husky.  “I learned from the best.”    
  
“You did not.”  
  
Noah snorted.  “Please.  What were the words you used when you came and rescued me in Columbus?  Oh, right.   _Fuck how it’s done_.  Ring any bells?”  
  
“There’s your answer, then.  Tired of the intrigues and deals?  Then fuck how it’s done.  And before you tell me it’s not that easy, this isn’t supposed to be easy.”  
  
“ _America isn’t easy.  America is advanced citizenship_.  Or something like that?”  
  
“Geek,” Kurt teased, and he got a genuine laugh back.  “I’m glad I could make you laugh.”  
  
“Only because you’re a bigger geek than I am, and we both know it.”  Noah’s tone was, finally, gentle and relaxed.  
  
“Yeah.  I think you’re right about that.”  Kurt just breathed in the silence for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of connection over the miles.  
  
“You sound tired.”  
  
“So do you.”  
  
Noah sighed, softly and sadly.  “I am.”  Kurt could hear the creak of his desk chair and the clicking of his keyboard.  “Tell me it’s worth it.”  
  
“Us?  Or everything else.”  Kurt wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to that question, but he asked anyway.  
  
“Both.”  
  
Oh.  Noah had to be in a bad way tonight.  “It is.  All of it.  But - and I want you to understand this, very clearly, okay?”  At Noah’s affirmative grunt, Kurt continued.  “If I had to make a choice, you or politics, I would always choose you.”  
  
“Baby.”  Kurt could hear the tears in Noah’s voice.  “I’d never ask you to choose.”  
  
Kurt took a shaky breath of his own.  “I know.  But I wanted you to know that.”  
  
“I love you, y’know.”  
  
Kurt sighed, and smiled into the darkness.  “I love you, too,” he whispered.  He leaned back, and closed his eyes against the motion of the bus.  He listened to Noah breathing, and typing, until he fell asleep.

 

**

 

Noah stayed in his office late, musing over the two emails in his inbox.  He printed a copy of the anonymous one, tucked it into a file folder and slipped it into his briefcase, and then deleted the one in his inbox.  The cyber people had a copy, as did the Secret Service, and he really wasn’t going to _gain_ anything by having to look at it every time he logged into his email.    
  
The one from Daniel was a different story.  
  
That one Noah forwarded to his personal account, and then he deleted both the email and the records of the forwards to himself and Kurt.  And then, to be thorough, he cleared out his trash folder.  
  
If the plan rolling around in his head was going to work, it was going to have to be done off-hours.  From home, from his non-government computer and email.  When he had formulated enough of a plan to let him sleep, he closed up his office and walked home.  His apartment felt empty and silent without Kurt there to fill the space with his quiet presence.  They didn’t spend every night together, and they alternated between both of their apartments when they were together, which was why Noah was so surprised by the loneliness he was feeling.  He turned on all the lights he could, and used the remote to key up his iHome as he wandered through to the bedroom, stripping off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt as he went.  When he was down to boxers and a t-shirt, he brewed a half-pot of decaf coffee and settled down to deal with the email.  
  
He fumbled over his keyboard for over an hour; he was nowhere near as gifted with words as Kurt was, and he didn’t want to give too much away in something that could be seen by anyone.  By the time he’d finished the pot of coffee, he had managed to cobble together something worth sending.  
  
He read it through one last time before clicking send.  
  
 **From: puck@gmail.com  
To: d.hamilton@gmail.com  
Subject: Thank you  
Sent: September 23, 2010  
  
Daniel:  
  
Thank you for sharing what you saw and heard.  
  
I remember well how invisible pages can be sometimes.  A friend and I used to joke that we were like hidden eyes and ears.  
  
Are you enjoying being a page?  
  
As you know, things are very busy these days, but feel free to contact me at this email address whenever you’d like.    
  
-N  
**  
Everything else would have to wait till morning, so he turned on the late news on CNN and fell asleep on the couch.  
  
***  
  
 _From: d.hamilton@gmail.com  
To: puck@gmail.com  
Subject: Re: Thank you  
Sent: September 23, 2010  
  
N-  
  
I might be more invisible than most, for reasons I’m sure you understand.  I don’t hide, so nobody seems to want to get too close.  This is politics, after all.  
  
I’ll do my best to help.  I’m not always working committee meetings, but I am in and out of lots of offices.  And nobody looks twice at a page in the room.  
  
I’ll email you with information as I can.  
  
-D  
_  
 **From: puck@gmail.com  
To: d.hamilton@gmail.com  
Subject: politics  
Sent: September 24, 2010  
  
D-  
  
Politics doesn’t have to be a game.  At least not the way it’s always been played.  K and I are proof of that.  Don’t give up your dream because of something you can’t control.  
  
-N  
**  
  
 _From: d.hamilton@gmail.com  
To: puck@gmail.com  
Subject: re: politics  
Sent: September 25, 2010  
  
N-  
  
Thanks for the encouragement.  It’s hard to keep pushing, sometimes, when I see resistance all around.    
  
The Senator was talking about his son today.  Did you know he’s in the Air Force?  
  
-D  
  
_  
  
 **From: puck@gmail.com  
To: keh@gmail.com  
Subject: something?  
Sent: September 25, 2010  
  
K-  
  
Did you know that our problem on the Hill has a son in the Air Force?  Something more there, perhaps?  How deep should I dig?  
  
How’s the trip?  
  
-N  
**  
  
 _From: keh@gmail.com  
To: puck@gmail.com  
Subject: Why I hate road trips  
Sent: September 26, 2010  
  
N-  
  
We were picketed by Focus on the Family today.  
  
And it was raining.  
  
The only good thing about being here is the really good Mexican food.  
  
Interesting news about our problem.  I would sit on it for now.  Keep working the rest of the committee, and see if you can turn him that way.  If you really do want to play this a new way, that is.  
  
I’ll be home on Thursday.  I can’t wait.  
  
-K  
_  
  
 **From: puck@gmail.com  
To: keh@gmail.com  
Subject: :(  
Sent: September 26, 2010  
  
Sorry.  I know you hate traveling, and adding homophobes and rain and stirring makes a terrible soup.  I wish I were on the trip with you.  
  
Thanks for the advice.  Sounds like a plan to me.  I’ll wait it out.  
  
Can’t wait to see you!  
  
-N  
**  
  
 **From: puck@gmail.com  
To: d.hamilton@gmail.com  
Subject: more thanks  
Sent: September 26, 2010  
  
D-  
  
Thank you for that tidbit.  We’re going to hold onto that for a while, and try to work some other magic from within first.  
  
You’ve done good, kid.    
  
-N  
**  
***  
  
Noah was running, darting through traffic as he crossed the street to the White House, when he heard his name being carried over the squeal and squeak of horns and brakes and slamming doors.  
  
“Mr. Puckerman!”  Noah turned toward the sound, and found himself in the penetrating gaze of a tall, black-haired man.  He was wearing civilian clothes, but Noah had spent so much time around military men and women in recent weeks that he knew just from looking that the man was in the service.  
  
Noah detoured over to the man and stuck out his hand.  “Noah Puckerman.”  
  
The man’s handshake was firm and strong.  “Bill- William- Brennan.”  
  
Noah tilted his head, studied him.  “Senator Brennan.”  
  
Brennan nodded.  “My father.  Is there- can we-.”  He ran an uncomfortable hand over his bristling haircut and let his gaze settle at the tiny bakery across the street.    
  
Noah followed Brennan’s eyes and nodded.  “Not there, though.”  He held up a hand.   “Can you give me one minute?  I just need to make a call.”  
  
Brennan nodded, and Noah turned away before dialing his assistant.  She answered on the third ring, but sounded bored.  That at least meant that nothing was on fire.  Always a good thing.  “Tara, listen.  I’ve been held up.  I don’t know how long I’m going to be.  I need you to reschedule my afternoon appointments.”  
  
“Until when?  You’re jammed up tomorrow.”  
  
“Move my 2 pm to 5 pm, my 4:30 to 7, and if you combine my House and Senate Republicans tomorrow afternoon, I can take my 6 pm at 9 tomorrow morning.”  
  
“How much is it worth to you?”  
  
Noah thought about the potential in this meeting, and the good it could do.  And how useless it might make all the other meetings.  But he didn’t want to play his hand yet, especially not on a public street corner.  
  
“I’ll buy you cappuccinos until Election Day.”  Tara practically mainlined them.  It was an easy call.  
  
“Done and done.  You’re the best boss.”  
  
Noah scoffed into the phone.  “Yeah.  What’s a little bribery between boss and assistant?”  
  
“You know you’d be lost without me.  Go take your meeting.”  Tara hung up without a word.  
  
Noah turned to Brennan, who was watching passing cars and people with his hands jammed into the pockets of his dark jeans, and spoke softly.  “This close, people see and hear everything.  Follow me a couple of blocks?”  
  
Brennan nodded, and Noah set off at a moderate pace.  He wound his way through alleys and around corners until he pulled up in front of the Greek place Kurt liked.  It was hidden, and while it did a brisk business it wasn’t on the radar of too many Important People, and so didn’t acquire the kinds of Important People Watchers that liked to linger closer to the White House and Capital.  He held the door for Brennan, and followed him into the warm steaminess of the restaurant.  
  
When they were seated at a back booth, coffee in front of them and orders given, Noah leaned back and eyed Brennan.  “‘Scuse my language, but your father is a grade A bastard.”  
  
Brennan’s eyes crinkled and sparkled lightly.  “He is that.  I suspect most of that is because of me.”  
  
“Air Force, right?”  
  
Brennan nodded.  “I went to the Academy.  I’ve got 16 years in.  4 more years, they vest my time at the Academy, and I’m a year from retirement.”  
  
Noah let out a low whistle as his brain did the math.  “So you retire at what, 42?  Full military pension, and get have a whole second career as a civilian?”  
  
Brennan nodded.  “That was the plan, at least.”  
  
“ _Was_?  Why not _is_?”  
  
“This fight, Mr. Puckerman.  It’s not just yours, or President Jackson’s.  It’s mine.”  Brennan stirred four packets of sugar and a splash of milk into his coffee, and tapped his spoon on the rim of his mug before setting it onto a napkin.  His last words were so soft Noah almost didn’t hear.  “And my father’s.”  
  
Noah blinked three times in rapid succession and willed his brain to _keep the hell up_.  “Your father knows.”  
  
“About me, yes.  He’s kept my secret since I was 23.  He’s afraid of a long battle, afraid of what it might mean if attention is focused on this for too long.  He’s afraid for my career, because if this gets out of committee and doesn’t pass, and I’m outed, I lose everything.”  
  
“What about you?  Are you afraid of those things?”  
  
Brennan looked away, and when he turned back Noah could see hints of shame in his eyes.  “I was, for a long time.  But I’m tired, Mr. Puckerman.”  He sighed softly.  “I’ve flown two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.  My b- boyfriend, he’s a good guy and he’s looking for a commitment that I’m afraid to give because how can I be there for him when I’m wasting so much energy keeping a secret?  I want _more_ than this.  All the others?  They _deserve_ more than this.”  
  
Noah sipped at his coffee and thought around everything he was hearing.  When he’d worked through the Senator, and the younger Brennan in front of him, and what he thought was being offered, he put his coffee mug down and placed his palms flat on the table top.  He lowered his voice.  “Are you telling me that you want to help?  That you’re willing to go public, knowing the risks?”  
  
Brennan held his gaze.  “You met with those West Point cadets last week?”  
  
“Yeah.  Kids, the three of them.”  
  
Brennan tore his eyes away and focused on his coffee spoon, the appetizer menu sticking out of the condiment tray, anything but on Noah.  “They made me ashamed,” Brennan admitted, his whisper rough.  “They were just babies, and they knew what was right.  My way isn’t right, not anymore.”  
  
Noah nodded.  The kids had made him feel the same way, had made him question the merits of keeping his relationship with Kurt hidden.  “I know what you mean.  My, um.  My.”  
  
Brennan’s eyes crinkled again and he let out a light laugh at Noah’s stumblings.  “Your boyfriend?”  
  
“Um.  Yes.  My _boyfriend_ works with me.”  The words were out before he could stop them.  “We’ve been keeping it quiet.”  Noah shook his head, and found an unexpected strength in the words he hadn’t been able to share with Kurt.  “We both thought it would make things easier, but it feels wrong somehow.”  
  
“I understand.  It was one thing when I was single.”  Brennan pulled out his phone and scrolled for a moment before turning the screen towards Noah.  The picture was of a sandy-haired man in shorts and a t-shirt on a beach, standing in front of an outcropping of rocks.  “This is Jamie.  We met three years ago.  I was on leave, went on one of those gay singles cruises?”    
  
Noah couldn’t help laughing outright.    
  
“I know, right?  I’m not sure what I was thinking, except that I was just tired of being single.  I figured I’d go, have a fun time.  Really belong somewhere, for the first time, you know?”  
  
Noah thought about what it had felt like, getting on the bus to Indianapolis with Kurt his first day with the campaign.  Further back, to being a page.  To playing his first football game.  “I know.”  
  
“So I go to dinner the first night, and there’s this guy at my table.  Nice, quiet.  Intelligent.  We talked for hours, but I didn’t want to be too forward.  Too desperate.  Too, I don’t know, _everything_.  I tried to walk away when the cruise was over, but he wouldn’t let me.  He knew that I was married to my job.  He knew going in that I had to be closeted.  The funny thing was that the longer we were together, the harder it was to keep the secret.”  Brennan tucked his phone away.  “Not for Jamie, surprisingly, but for me.”  
  
Noah ran a hand through his hair.  “I think that’s what’s happening with us.  He can see both sides of it, and he’ll just go along.  But,” he sighed roughly, “I feel like I’m a fraud or something.”  
  
“Integrity.”  Brennan nodded knowingly.  “Preaching one thing and practicing the opposite, it’ll get you nowhere.”  
  
They sat in silence for an almost-uncomfortably long time, until their plates were gone and their second cups of coffee were drained.  Noah could feel Brennan’s unasked questions in the air between them.  “You’re wondering what happens next.”  
  
“Yes.”    
  
“Have you been in touch with SLDN?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Okay.”  Noah scrolled through his contacts and pulled up the information for the guy he was working with there.  “Call Jeremy.  Tell him that we talked, and then call me after you meet with him.  We can manage this however you want.  But.”  Noah paused, let his thumb hover over Kurt’s name in his contacts list.  “You might want to think about telling your father first.”  
  
Noah certainly didn’t envy Brennan _that_ experience.  
  
**  
  
Kurt’s phone rang softly on the seat next to him as the bus barreled out of Chicago towards Indiana.   _Noah_.  
  
“Hey.”  He curled further into himself, wrapping around the phone like he was trying to protect Noah’s words, keep them just for himself.  He could hear street noises echoing on the other end of the call.  “Where are you?”  
  
“Headed back to the office.  I had an unexpected guest today.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“The, um.”  Kurt could hear Noah trying to choose his words carefully.  “The offspring of our problem on the Hill.”  
  
“ _Really_?”  Kurt couldn’t help the surprise in his voice.  “He showed up on his own?”  
  
“Yeah.  And he had some interesting things to tell me.”  
  
“I bet.  I can’t wait to hear about it.”  Kurt sighed into the phone.  “Two more days.”  
  
“Yeah.  Listen.”  
  
Kurt’s stomach clenched at the seriousness in Noah’s voice.  “What?”  
  
“No, baby.  Don’t panic.  It’s not bad.”  Noah rushed to reassure him, and the strength in his tone let Kurt relax a tiny bit.  
  
“O-okay.”  
  
“I just-” Noah sighed.  “I think we need to talk about going public.”  
  
Oh.  “Oh.  Why?”  Kurt rested his elbow against the cold metal wall, and leaned his head into his palm.  
  
“Meeting all these soldiers.  It makes me feel like a fraud, like I’m fighting for them but I’m not brave enough to fight for me.  For _us_.”  Kurt could hear fabric rustling, and the telltale squeak of the staff gate opening and closing.  
  
“Almost back?”  The sounds of outside disappeared, and Kurt could see the path Noah was taking, past the guarded desk, around the corner through the press bullpen, past the briefing room, and down the long hall to the end where his office sat.  He heard Tara, Noah’s assistant, scolding him about something, and then her satisfied squeal about cappuccino.  “Oh, you bad, bad man.  Bribing your assistant.”  
  
“She did me a solid this afternoon.  She deserves it.”  There was laughter in his voice, and that made Kurt smile.  Very little about this trip had been able to do that.  
  
“I miss you.”  He lowered his voice to a whisper.    
  
“I miss you, too.  Would you really be okay, telling everyone?”  Noah sounded doubtful.  
  
“Yes.  I would.”  He hadn’t been, until that moment.  But he also knew that it was the right decision.  “I think, though, that the logistics...”  Kurt thought about AJ, the way she battled the press like a mama lion.  “AJ will take care of us, but.”  
  
Kurt heard a thunk as Noah settled into his desk chair.  “But.  There will be repercussions.  And not necessarily positive ones.”  
  
“Which is why we shouldn’t make the decision on our own.  I know you’re anxious about this, but can it hold for two more days?”  
  
“Yeah.”  Noah sounded exhausted.  “I have so much other stuff to deal with.  Just knowing that you’re willing to consider the idea, that makes it better.”  
  
“I’m glad, baby.  I hate feeling so far away from you.  I can’t wait to be back.”  
  
“I can’t wait for you to _be_ back.  I never thought . . .”  Noah let his thought trail off, but Kurt picked it up within a heartbeat.  
  
“How fast this would happen.  I know.  But it’s okay.  It’s all going to be okay.  Now,” Kurt looked out into the dusk, “you probably have a ton of work to do.  And I have a date with a speech revision.  Talk with you tomorrow?”  
  
“Of course.”  Kurt could hear clicking, and then the sudden buzzing of Noah’s intercom.  And then the dismay in Noah’s voice.  “Crap.  My next meeting is here.”  
  
“Go to work, baby.  I love you.”  
  
“Love you, too.  Tomorrow.”    
  
The phone went dead.  Kurt pulled his laptop out of his bag, but just held it in his lap.  He didn’t power it up until they had crossed the state line.  
  
**

Noah waited at work until he had all but cleaned his desk off.  He hesitated to jump into anything new because he didn’t want to be stuck there all night.  Kurt was coming home, had actually been _due_ back before dinner.  But dusk was falling, and the last text had been an hour ago from the highway running through southern Pennsylvania.   _The event ran long.  On my way.  Don’t wait.  Meet at your place?_  
  
Noah closed up his office and walked home, and then texted Kurt.   _Just home.  Chinese for dinner?_  
  
The reply was almost instant.   _Forget Chinese.  You for dinner._  
  
He had no reply for _that_ except for _God, K.  Hurry home!_  
  
The anticipation made him slightly crazy, so he puttered around his apartment for an hour with tingling limbs and an ache in his gut.   _Idiot_ , he thought to himself more than once.   _You’re a grown man, not a fumbling sixteen year old.  Get it in gear._  But he couldn’t think of anything except Kurt, the feel and sound of him and the way he moved and the way he laughed and . . . _well._  
  
He’d had his fair share of boyfriends since coming out in college, some longer term than others, but none of them had made him crazy like Kurt did, made him _want_ like Kurt did.  Made him feel love the way he felt it for Kurt.  Noah’s heart had been pushing him along on this path for years, but he was having trouble fully believing in the feeling of it.   _If I can just get out of my head..._ the idea made him laugh, because he and Kurt both spent way too much time thinking and analyzing and endlessly, _endlessly_ talking.    
  
 _No talking tonight.  No work.  No news.  No damn phones or emails._  He was interrupted by the harsh ring of his buzzer, and after he let Kurt in he stood in his open doorway and waited.  Kurt was faster than Noah had expected, mostly because he was hauling his suitcase and messenger bag.  But he was there, tired and rumpled and _his_.  Noah shuddered at the thought, and tugged Kurt inside before closing the door, turning the deadbolt, and pulling Kurt into a slow, languid kiss.  
  
Noah could feel Kurt holding back slightly, and he looked at Kurt with puzzled eyes when he pulled away.  “You okay, baby?”  
  
“I-”  Kurt licked his lips and looked away.  “I just want to lose myself in you.”  He plucked a hand at his wrinkled t-shirt and made a face.    
  
Noah watched, and nodded.  “I know what you need.”  He took Kurt’s hand, led him into the bedroom, and motioned for him to undress.  “You can put your clothes in with mine, if you want.”  Mingling of laundry was a step for them, but Kurt didn’t blink, so Noah didn’t either.  He left Kurt and headed into the bathroom, to turn on the shower.  He turned the hot on first and then added the cold slowly, until the water was steaming instead of scalding.  When he deemed it ready, he started to call for Kurt, but was surprised by the tug of Kurt’s hand at the waist of his pants, at Kurt’s hands sliding along the fabric of his shirt, at the press of Kurt’s body behind him.  At the blatant wantonness in Kurt’s voice.    
  
“I think one of us has an unfair advantage here, and I don’t think it’s me.”  Kurt’s voice was liquid, warm and wanting.  Noah shuddered under his touch, and starting navigating the frustratingly small buttons on his shirt with trembling, water-damp hands.  Kurt stepped around him, body aware and full of confidence, and into the shower.  “Join me when you’re ready,” he called before his voice disappeared under the curtain of water.  
  
When Noah climbed in Kurt was turned away, the water running through his hair and leaving tracks of shampoo suds down his back and legs.  Noah hummed low in his throat, and didn’t say a word, just ducked under the spray with Kurt and reveled in the warm, soap-slicked feel of him.  He pressed his lips to the side of Kurt’s neck and down his shoulder, and shivered in delight when Kurt pushed back into the touch.  
  
“I’ve missed you,” Noah mumbled into the water in the instant before Kurt turned and kissed him.  It was hard, and demanding, and Noah thought he might drown in that kiss.  But he wanted more than that, wanted to feel Kurt under him, tight and hot and coming undone.  He let his hands wander down Kurt’s back, over the slight jut of his hip bones, between them to where he was already rock-hard.  “Want you,” he breathed over the water and Kurt’s low, light moans.  
  
 _Mmmmm_ was the only response he got, so he moved carefully then, guiding and urging with hip and shoulder and the gentle splay of his hand, first at the small of Kurt’s back and then against the flat of his abdomen, until Kurt was braced with both his hands against the tile and was rocking his hips, seeking.  
  
“Baby.”  Noah stopped for a moment, just wanting to _be_ in the moment.  “You make me crazy.”  
  
Kurt’s words were low, rich with need and want.  “Stop looking and just, _please_.  Noah.”  
  
Noah couldn’t help wanting to tease, so he trailed a hand lightly down the length of Kurt’s spine before moving lower and pressing Kurt open.  “ _Please what_?”  
  
Kurt gasped at the motion, rocking into Noah’s hand.  “ _Please_ ,” Kurt ground out again.  “Are you going to fuck me or not?”  
  
Noah’s stomach dropped to his feet for a split second before he caught his breath.  “Yes, baby, yes.”  
  
He had been ready for hours, anticipating for fourteen days.  He wasn’t new at this, but he suddenly felt nervous.  “Kurt.”  He covered Kurt’s body with his own, placed a hand over Kurt’s and twined their fingers.  He didn’t even really have to do anything, because Kurt was arcing back, pushing himself around Noah, and it was bliss.  
  
It was slow, the delicious slide of the two of them, together.  Noah lost himself to everything except for that, the glide of skin and solid feel of Kurt under his arm, against his chest.  Kurt made him feel, and want, and the things in his head and heart just bubbled over, whispered like faded echoes into Kurt’s unhearing ear.   _Good_ , _so beautiful, so strong.  Baby. **My** baby_.  The last one, over and over like a mantra, as Kurt came around him and under him, as Kurt’s tears washed away under the warm silence of the water.  
  
He repeated it later, drowsy in the aftermath of Kurt’s relentless hands and mouth, when they were wrapped around each other in Noah’s bed.  It was different then, a promise rather than a prayer, but it made Kurt shudder just the same.  
  
 _Funny_ , Noah thought as he drifted closer to sleep, _it makes me feel whole._

_**_

They didn’t talk about it.  None of it.  Not going public, not Noah’s news about his mysterious meeting.  And most definitely not the implications of the words Noah had whispered so many times.    
  
Kurt wanted to sleep, he really did.  Being still instead of a slave to the persistent motion of the bus was nice.  Being wrapped up in Noah’s arms was better.  The limp bliss of his post-orgasm haze was perfect.  And yet.  
  
Past 3 am and he was _still_ awake.  
  
He slipped out of bed as gently as he could, and he wasn’t halfway into his suitcase digging for a clean pair of sleep pants when the bed creaked behind him.  
  
“You okay?”  Noah’s voice was thick with sleep.  
  
“Noah.  I was trying not to wake you.”    
  
“It’s okay, baby.”  
  
Kurt kept his back turned at the rustling of the sheets.  He didn’t want to disturb Noah, he just felt like he always did in the dark of the night, a touch restless and a lot anxious with a brain that was never quiet.  “Go back to sleep,” he scoffed.  “At least one of us should take the chance when it presents itself.”  
  
He kept waiting for the sheets to rustle again, for the telltale _humph_ Noah always mumbled before he fell asleep.  He waited for the gentle solidness of Noah’s breath in sleep, but it never came.  What he got instead was Noah’s warm hand at the small of his back.  Kurt stilled instantly, felt the warmth seep into his muscles.    
  
Noah’s rough voice was like balm to his frayed and tattered brain.  “Come back to bed.”  
  
Kurt wanted.  Oh, how he _wanted_.  But he also didn’t know how to say things like _how can you think about sleep and sex when our world might be falling apart?_ and _what if we ruin everything?_  And the biggest thing of all: _how can you be so sure that I’m worth all of this?_  
  
His words caught in his throat, but he choked them out just the same.  “I- I _can’t_.  There’s just so much . . ..”    
  
But Noah’s hand was gentle in his own then, and his voice held no judgment.  He tapped the side of Kurt’s head with his free hand.  “Come back to bed, baby, and tell me what’s going on in that amazing brain of yours.”  
  
The bed was still warm, and Noah wrapped Kurt up in his body, held him tightly for a few minutes before loosening his grasp and setting to work running his fingers through Kurt’s hair.  Kurt let out an unintentional sigh at the contact, and before he realized what he was doing, he was talking.  Not the stilted half-sentences that had been turning over in his head for two days either, but torrents of words and thoughts and fears and dreams.  It felt like it did sometimes when he sat down to work on a speech, those times when he would type for hours and look back when he was done and wonder _did **I** really do all that?_  
  
When his voice was hoarse, and then silent, Noah just held him again.  Kurt could feel him nodding against the pillows.  
  
“Okay.  So.  First,”  Noah kissed the back of his neck, “you will _always_ be worth it.  I love you.  All this stuff you’ve been holding in isn’t going to send me running.”  
  
At Kurt’s snort, Noah just sighed.  “You don’t believe in yourself very much, do you?”  
  
Kurt wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything at all.  Noah had plenty to say, though.  
  
“I know, you kick ass at work and you know it.  But I’m not talking about that.  I’m talking about how you feel about yourself _here_.”  He pressed his palm in the center of Kurt’s chest, and Kurt could feel the thumping of his heartbeat echoed back into his body from the strength in Noah’s hand.  “You put this great face out there to the world, but you don’t see yourself the way the rest of us do, do you?”

Kurt just shook his head.  “I feel like I’m really good at faking it.”

“Faking what?”  Noah sounded genuinely confused.

“All of it.  I have no qualifications to do what I do.  I have no marketable skills outside of this city.  And I’ve never been in love before.”

“Really.  And here I thought that jerk who left you right before the campaign was the love of your life,”  Noah joked lightly, trailing hot breath along the broad expanse of Kurt’s upper back.

“Brat.”  But there was more edge to Kurt’s voice than he intended, and Noah pulled back. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“Just wait, okay?  I just-” Kurt let his voice drop in shame.  “I just wanted you to know.”

“Know what?”

“That you’re the first person I’ve ever been in love with, and I have no idea what I’m doing.  I don’t want to ruin this.  Ruin _us_.”

Noah lay back on his pillow and sighed.  He was silent for a maddening stretch of minutes that left Kurt reeling with a startling variety of worst case scenarios.  When he finally spoke, it was so sudden that Kurt actually startled. 

“Why do you think you’re going to ruin things?”

“Because we might be too much.  You and I together, it might be more than anyone can handle.  We’re both a beck and a call from the Oval Office, and the public has very strong opinions about these kinds of things.”  Kurt sat up and pulled the sheet tight around him.  “The people that matter all know anyway.”

Noah just looked at him, his eyes going bigger and bigger until he finally thrust angry words out into the room.  “Oh.  Fucking hell, Kurt.  “

“What?”

“All that righteous anger you have about homophobes, and outing, and how everyone deserves to be out and happy?  You believe it for everyone else, but you don’t believe in it for yourself.”  He dropped a hand to the blankets between them and reached tentative finger out to graze the side of Kurt’s wrist.

Kurt paused in his thoughts, about to deny it, but he knew Noah was right.  “I’m not brave like your soldiers, or so easy about things the way you are.  It’s not that I’m not proud of who I am, it’s just, I never had a reason to care so much before.  And caring too much means that the hurt in the aftermath is even worse.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”  Noah pulled Kurt into his chest and held him tight, murmuring nothings into his ear and punctuating them with _I’m here, always_ and things like it.  Things Kurt wanted to believe, but had trouble with even though it had been over two decades since his mother had died.

When Kurt was warm and settled again, Noah stretched out and pulled Kurt down next to him.  Kurt let himself explore Noah’s body, running his hands over arms and chest and reveling in the little dip at the base of Noah’s throat.  Noah hummed happily, relaxing under Kurt’s touch, and as Kurt tucked himself against the length of Noah’s body he sighed a content, full sigh.  He stilled the motion of Kurt’s hand with the gentle touch of his own.  “You have a reason to care now, though, right?”

Kurt nodded.  “Yes.  You’re my reason to care.  I just might need help remembering that sometimes.”

“I can do that.”  Noah fumbled on the bedside table for something,  and when he turned back to Kurt he had his glasses in one hand and his phone in the other.  He slipped the glasses on and thumbed through his contacts.  Kurt grabbed his arm.  “Noah, don’t.  It’s 4 am!”

Noah smiled grimly.  “No.  Now, before you change your mind.  We’re doing this, K.  And we’re getting the ball rolling tonight.”  He hit dial, and waited.  Kurt didn’t need the phone turned towards him to hear the caller on the other end pick up.

“This is AJ.”

“AJ, Noah.  Kurt and I need to talk to you.”


	3. Part II: October

**Part II: October**  
  
 **_The Rainbow Politico Blog_ **  
  
_Greetings, Dear Readers.  Our Little Birdies in Important Places have told us that things look very cozy over in the West Wing.  So we were wondering why half of the power couple in question was spied sharing an intimate-looking meal with a tall, dark stranger last week.  Rest assured that we’re on the case here, and we’ll keep you all updated._

_As Always,_  
 _Rainbow Politico_

 

AJ hadn’t been surprised to get an early morning phone call from Noah; she was just surprised that it had come a full month before the elections.  The most popular date in the newest office pool had the official coming out at Election day + 3, and AJ chucked softly to herself as she eased herself out of bed.  It looked like the President, at Election Day -25, was going to win again. 

 

She moved silently through the dark of the bedroom, grabbing jeans and a sweater from the closet on her way into the bathroom.   Only after she was inside with the door closed did she turn on the light.  She dressed quickly, pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, brushed her teeth and stuffed her feet into her running shoes, discarded in a corner after her evening run.  On her way back through the darkened bedroom, she dropped a silent kiss onto Jenna’s barely-there head where it stuck out from under the blankets.  She was just pulling the door closed against the dimness in the hall when a sleep-heavy voice reached out to her.

“Work?”

“Yeah.  Sorry, babe.  It’s the boys.”  She waved her hand.

“So soon.  I thought the odds were stronger for after the election.”

“Yeah.  Well.  Never say never, I guess.  I’m bummed, though.  We’re out another fifty bucks.  To the President, no less.”

There was an undignified snort from the blankets, and AJ could hear rustling and repositioning going on.  “Do you know how long you’ll be?”

“With any luck, I’ll be home before you even wake up.  I’ll make you breakfast either way, okay?”

Jenna  hummed sleepily.  “Waffles.  Eggs over medium.  Crisp bacon.  And stop for a chai on your way?”

AJ waited for the groan she knew would follow her silence. 

“I hate you.  My kingdom for some fucking caffeine.”

AJ stared at the swell of Jenna’s belly in the moonlight from the window.  “You’ll thank me.  We don’t want a caffeinated baby.”  She smiled fondly, even though Jenna couldn’t see her.  “You’re bad enough.”

Jenna _humpfed_ and turned onto her side again.  “Go to work.  I’m holding you to breakfast.”

AJ backed fully into the hall and whispered into the dark.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

***

D.C. hadn’t given up the ghost of Indian Summer quite yet, but AJ was always cold, and she shivered on the stoop while she waited for Noah to buzz her up.  He was waiting on the landing, and she was surprised to see that he looked pretty awake and aware.  Not like Kurt, who handed her a mug of hot coffee, extra milk no sugar, and held her gaze with hollow, dark-rimmed eyes.  
  
She leaned into him, her tiny frame ineffectual at wrapping him in a hug, but she still clucked over him and murmured friendly endearments up towards his ear.  He’d always been her favorite, since the early days of the campaign when he was holding things together with duct tape and paper clips and donations of nickels and dimes and she was paying off her Communications degree working at Nordstrom and volunteering nights at the campaign.    
  
Sometimes AJ felt like Kurt had created them all.  She knew she wasn’t the only one, but she didn’t think that Kurt even had a clue.  She felt like she owed him.  She was going to make this right for him, for _both_ of them.  
  
“OK,” she began, plopping down into an arm chair, “you called me at 4 am.  I can only assume that you guys want to come out about your relationship and we need to hatch a plan?”  
  
Noah sunk onto the sofa, and pulled Kurt down and against him.  “You assume correctly.  And sooner rather than later.”  
  
Kurt looked like he was trying to hide.  AJ knew he’d always been worried around any repercussions that might arise from his being out.  He had to be scared to death.  She caught his guarded eyes.  “Sweetie.  Are you sure?”  
  
Kurt nodded his approval and cleared his throat.  “Before we do this, though, I need two days.”  
  
Noah looked mildly surprised, but nodded in understanding.  AJ shot him a quizzical look, but he didn’t answer.  He just rested a hand over Kurt’s and squeezed gently.  When he spoke, it was in a whisper.  
  
“I need to go home.  I need to tell my family in person before things go crazy.”    
  
AJ nodded.  She knew very little about Kurt’s family, only that, like her, he was from a blended family.  Though from everything she gathered, his experience was much better than her own.  She didn’t figure it could get any _worse_ than her stepmother screaming at her and not letting her even say goodbye to Hanna and Ricky.  They had practically been babies then, reaching for her with chubby hands and tear-stained faces.  The last email from her dad had included pictures, Ricky at his first football game with the high school band and Hanna with her travel soccer team.  He kept sending them like clockwork twice a month, to the email address she’d held onto since she was 19, even though she never responded.  
  
She felt sad that he didn’t even know he was going to be a grandfather.  
  
AJ gathered her wandering thoughts and nodded.  “I think . . . I think that’s wise.”  She turned to Noah.  “Are you going, too?”  
  
Noah shook his head.  “Nope.”  He rolled his eyes at her in a gesture that was pure Kurt and sighed like it was all too much.  “I’ve got something else that needs managing.  It could be a game changer for repeal, if it all works out.”  
  
“Anything you can tell me about?”  AJ was almost salivating at the idea of whatever Noah had up his sleeve.  
  
“No!”  Noah and Kurt chorused with identical vehemence.  
  
AJ just chuckled at them.  “Okay.  I won’t ask again.  So.  Do either of you have any ideas about how you want to handle this?”  
  
They both shook their heads and Kurt looked a little sheepish.  “I feel bad,” he muttered.  “This is all because of me.  Noah called you before I could chicken out.”

AJ let some teasing mirth creep into her voice.  It was the same tone she used to lighten the mood in the press room when they acted like petulant toddlers.  “I’m guessing that a press conference is out of the question, then.”

At Kurt’s stricken look, she threw her hands up.  “Kidding!  Wow.  Okay.  Joking, Kurt.”

Kurt just slumped back against Noah.  “Not funny.”

AJ tugged at her ponytail.  “How about a tightly worded press release, put out with the trash on Friday, right before I put the lid on?  That way we make it look like it’s not a big deal.”

Kurt chewed on his bottom lip with his teeth.  “Or we make it look like we’re hiding it because we hope nobody notices, like we’re ashamed.”  He looked at Noah and twined their fingers together.  “I’m not ashamed.”

Noah pulled their hands to his lips, and pressed a kiss to Kurt’s knuckles.  “I know, baby.”  He looked back and forth between AJ and Kurt, and finally nudged Kurt with his shoulder.  “You’re the word man.  Do you want to write the release?”  

Kurt started to shake his head in denial, but AJ jumped on the idea.  “I think that’s perfect!  You get to craft your own message, and it will come across as a lot more personal than if we hand it off to someone in my office.”

“Besides,” Noah smiled sideways, “we don’t want the gossip mongers letting it slip yet.”

AJ couldn’t help it.  She burst into laughter and waved her hand at them.  “Oh, please.  That ship sailed right after Labor Day.  You really didn’t think you could almost get caught by the guy from the Trib and keep this a secret, did you?  You should know by now, the press room is worse than a locker room full of teenage girls.”

Kurt nodded knowingly, some of the tension slipping from his body.  “Yeah.  I think we were deluding ourselves.  I just can’t believe this hasn’t gone further than that.”

AJ leaned forward, elbows on her knees.  “I’ll tell you a secret.  The press loves you guys, individually _and_ as a couple.  They might be as protective of you as I am.  They’ll take care of you on this.  Trust me.”

“We do.”  Noah’s voice was soft.  “We trust _you_.  It’s the rest of the world that might be a problem.”

AJ let her mind fill with thoughts of her stepmother, of the siblings she’d lost.  Of Jenna’s brother, who wouldn’t let her have contact with her young nephew.  Of the kids she met at the teen shelter where she volunteered, some as young as 11 or 12, tossed onto the street like garbage.  She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.  “I wish I didn’t agree with you on that one.”

**

The best flight Kurt had found was an 8 am Dulles to Dayton on Tuesday morning, and he’d booked a rental car so that nobody had to take time off from work to drive down and pick him up.

He’d always liked the freedom of driving, of losing himself in the long stretches of miles under his tires and the vacant musings of his subconscious.  He wasn’t sure what it meant, though, that his subconscious led him into the visitor’s parking lot at his old high school before he could reach the exit ramp for his dad’s house.

“Oh, what the hell,” he muttered, stepping out into the crispness of the day.  For as many times as he’d been back to Ohio since graduation, he really hadn’t spared McKinley High School a second thought.  It wasn’t that he had been miserable, he just hadn’t been happy.  He had been on Honor Roll and in Glee Club, and it didn’t matter that they had won  Nationals the year before he’d gotten there, Glee had still been on the bottom of the social heap and Kurt had been largely invisible outside of his small group of friends. 

He crunched through the leaves littering the broad expanse of pavement and hauled open the double doors.  _Huh_ , he thought.  _It even still smells the same_.  The halls were empty, and when he poked his head into the office there was nobody on duty.  He felt odd just wandering the halls, but his feet knew where to go.  He ended up in the Social Sciences hall facing a handful of closed doors.  He moved slowly, trying to remember, counting room numbers in his head.  He whispered to himself as he walked.  _136, Freshman World Civ.  140, Sophomore European History.  142, Junior US.  145, Senior AP._ And then the name of that teacher, the one who had pulled him from European History that winter day of his sophomore year and stuffed the Senate Page application into his hand.  The one who let him hang out in her classroom after school Junior spring when he’d been lost and struggling to fill the empty hours that weeks before had seen him at the Capital.  _Ms. Feinberg._ He thought he had settled on the right room when the trilling of the bell sent him jumping as all of the doors slammed open and the halls were full of kids.  A man with thick glasses poked his head into the hall and caught sight of Kurt. 

“You belong here?  Office is that way.”  He pointed back the way Kurt had come.

Kurt shook his head.  “No, I used to be a student here.  I was looking for Ms. Feinberg.  Does she still teach here?”

“Dolores?  Yeah. “  He pointed further down the hall.  “153.”

“Thanks.”  Kurt turned and started to walk away when the man stopped him.

“Wait.  I know you.”

“I don’t think so.”  _Please just let it go_ , he willed the man.  _Don’t make a scene._

“I’m sure of it.  You look so familiar.”

“No.  You don’t know me.  Trust me.”  Kurt let the crowd swallow him before he could be met with more questions, and he darted in and around clumps of kids until he stood at the open door to room 153.  Ms.  Feinberg had seemed so much older and professional when Kurt had been a student, but she had also been new, which told him that she really couldn’t be more than 10 years older than he was.   He knocked gently on the door frame and cleared his throat. 

“Excuse me, Ms. Feinberg?”  She looked up from the stack of papers on her desk and didn’t say a word.  Just stared at him for a few silent moments, and then she chuckled softly.

“Kurt.”  Her smile was warm, and Kurt ran his hand over the back of his neck. 

“You remember me.”  He was honestly surprised.  “You’ve taught so many kids.”

“True.”  She pointed at him with her red marking pen.  “But you’re the only one who works at the White House.”

“Yeah.  I’m just here for a short visit, but I wanted to stop in and thank you.”

“For what?”  She looked at him in surprise.

“You’re the one who urged me to apply for the Page program.  And you let me hang out in your classroom when I got back from Washington, and wrote me an amazing college recommendation.”  He stepped two steps into the classroom and lowered his voice.  “You taught me to go after what I wanted.”

“And have you?” 

“Gone after what I wanted?  I-”  He was overcome, suddenly, with visions of Noah.  The two of them singing together, talking in Noah’s dorm and Kurt’s apartment.  That night in Columbus when Kurt had given it one more chance, told himself that if Noah said no then he’d stop pushing.  And barely a month ago, kissing Noah on the street corner.  He laughed, light and lively.  “Yes.  I guess I have.”

“Good.  I did my job, then, I suppose.”  She looked at him wearily, tucking a black curl of hair behind her ear.  “Some days I wonder if I mean anything at all.”

“You’d be surprised.  I suspect you reach more kids than you think.  The ones you matter to will never come back to tell you because they’ll never come back here, except for holidays and not even then if they can avoid it.”

“Like you.”  Her gaze was pointed, and Kurt knew she had a point, as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

“Yes.  Like me.  But I do come back.”  He thought about his dad and Carole, and the quiet, happy life they shared.  Kurt knew he was fooling himself to think that he _didn’t_ want that, didn’t want that kind of a life with Noah.  “I’m lucky,” he shrugged.  “My family doesn’t care about who I am or what I do.  They love me and just want me to be happy, so that makes it easier to come back.  And,” he added, thinking of AJ and her father, over a decade of email that she never responded to, “I come back for the ones who can’t.”

Ms. Feinberg dropped her pen onto her desk and stood, crossed the small space between them, and put her hands on Kurt’s shoulders.  “Come talk to my classes tomorrow.  If you don’t have plans.”

“I don’t think-”

“Please.  You can make as much of a difference as I do.”

Well, _fuck_.  “Okay.  I have to be on the road to Dayton by 4, though.”

“Great.  10 am.”  She squeezed his shoulder again.  “you won’t regret it.”

 _I already do_ , he thought grimly.

**

The garage was the same as it had always been.  As a young boy, after his mother died, it had been entertainment.  When he got older, it had been another sanctuary, a place where he was good at something that had nothing to do with school.  It had always been a place where he and his dad could talk.  They had talked about dad and Carole getting married over the fan belt on an old, crumbling Ford pickup, and Kurt had come out to his dad even as his hands shook around the connectors of the battery he had been installing, his dad keeping a watchful eye over his shoulder; when the battery was in and Kurt’s confession out, his dad had pulled him into a tight hug and told him he had never been more proud.  Kurt still wasn’t sure if he’d been talking about the coming out or the battery installation.  They had filled out Kurt’s college applications in the office, and when the offers began pouring in, his dad had pinned every acceptance and scholarship letter on the bulletin board above his desk. 

So it only seemed right to Kurt that his newest confession come over tools and under the hood of a car.

Paulie, who’d been a fixture since Kurt was a toddler, waved him through the waiting area to the back and smiled before turning back to ring up a customer.  Kurt found his dad in the last bay, the disassembled detritus of some severely worn brakes on the ground. 

“When was the last time _they_ replaced their brakes?”

His dad turned at the sound of his voice.

“Hey, kid.”  He ran a hand over the bill of his Red Sox cap.  “If you wanna help, there’s a spare coverall in the office.” 

Kurt just nodded and stripped off his sweater.  He shivered lightly in his t-shirt, but slid the tools over anyway.  They worked in silence for a while until Kurt’s head felt clear.  He put his wrench down and rubbed at his forehead with his elbow.  His dad tossed him a shop rag, and he scrubbed at the grease on his hands.  “Dad.”

His dad looked at him, soft and stern at the same time.  “It must be big, if you flew in.”

“Kind of.  I, um.”  Kurt felt a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

“It’s not that asshole JAG lawyer you told me about, is it?”  Kurt startled, mostly  because the asshole JAG lawyer in question had only been good for some awkward groping and three cancelled drink dates.

“No.  Not the JAG lawyer.”

“Then it better be Puckerman.  Because I gotta tell you, kiddo, you’ve strung him along for too many years.”

Kurt swallowed noiselessly a few times, and then gaped at his father.  “How- what- ?”

His dad wiped his hands on his own shop towel and placed them squarely on his hips.  “I’m not blind, Kurt.  You’ve been half-gone on him since you both were kids.”  His eyes sparkled.  “I should call Carole.  She owes me dinner now.”

“What?”  Kurt wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

Burt waved his hand in the air.  “Finn lost a long time ago.  Since Carole guessed never, it doesn’t matter that I picked vaguely.  I still win!”

“What’s vague in a relationship poll?”

Burt rubbed his hands together and laughed, rich and full.  “Before your 35th birthday!”

**

The three of them went to dinner, and Kurt tried three times during the meal to tell them the rest of things, but there was too much other talking going on, and Kurt didn’t get his best chance until dessert was in front of them and his dad and Carole were busy with chocolate mousse and tiramisu.  Kurt took a bite of his crème brûlé and let the crackly sugar crust mix with the creamy custard before swallowing and letting his spoon clatter to the side of his plate.

“We’re telling everyone.  On Friday.”  He took a breath, a sip of water, and went back to his dessert.

Carole looked at him, a forkful of tiramisu halfway to her mouth.  “Okay.”

His dad eyed him cautiously.  “There’s a lot going on right now, with the elections and everything.  Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Noah, he’s having a really hard time with keeping it a secret.  He’s been working with all these soldiers, on the repeal?”  His dad and Carole nodded at him.  He’d always been proud at the way they follow not just his career but also the inner workings of politics.  It’s not for everyone, and he sometimes feels bad, like he’s sucked them into his crazy world, but it also means that he doesn’t have to spend a lot of time talking about the smaller details in situations like this.

Carole’s voice danced across the table.  “It’s a matter of integrity for him, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”  Kurt poked his spoon back into his ramekin, enjoying the satisfying _crack_ of the crust against metal; he thought absently that the sound might be his favorite part of crème brûlé.  “I mean, I get it.  I get why it’s important, for him and for us and for . . . _the community_ and all.”  He shook his head against the feeling underlying his light fears of being so much farther out than he already was.  “I’m not _ashamed_.  I know that’s what a lot of people think, because I’m not shouting from the rooftops.  There’s just so much at stake.”

His dad watched him carefully before speaking.  “You’ve always wanted to make everyone happy, sometimes at the expense of your _own_ happiness.  But I think you’re worrying _too much_ here, Kurt.  Sure, you’re not… what, _shouting from the rooftops_.  But you’re not hiding either.  You’ve always been honest about who you are.  This isn’t any different.”

“But-”  Kurt began, stuttered, and started again.  “What if Noah and I tell the truth and it hurts the party?  Or rolls back the repeal bill?”

Carole reached over and covered his hand with hers.  “Honey.  I know it feels earth-shattering, but I doubt you and Noah being honest about your relationship is going to do a whole lot either way.  The people who think that gays are bad soldiers and incapable of being kind, caring, devoted partners and members of society are still going to think those things.  The people who support equal rights and couldn’t care less are still going to think _those_ things.  The only difference might be in the people who never think about it, who don’t understand.  And _those_ are the minds you stand a chance at changing.”

Kurt let her hand linger for a moment before he pulled away and finished his dessert. 

He was going to have a lot to talk with Noah about later.

**

Noah had been on his way out of the office when his cell buzzed in his pocket.  _Kurt_ , he thought, and smiled before answering.  “Hey, baby.”

The laugh on the other end wasn’t Kurt.  “One meal together and I’m already your baby?  I better not tell my boyfriend.” 

Bill Brennan.  Noah snorted with laughter and almost dropped the phone before tucking it between his shoulder and ear so he could lock his door.  “Sorry.  I thought you were someone else.”

Brennan snickered.  “Clearly.  Anyway, I’ve talked with SLDN, and with Jamie, and my father.  We were hoping to make an announcement before the weekend, so Jamie and I will be flying in tomorrow morning.  We need to talk logistics, and we’d also like to take you and your boyfriend to dinner.”

Noah felt his stomach flip-flop as he stalked through the not-quite empty halls on his way to the exit.  “I’m not in the best place for talking, but this is kind of complicated.  We’ve got a lot going on at the end of the week.”  He pushed through the staff exit and out into the early dusk.  “But this all might work out.  I need to talk to K- um, my boyfriend.  He’s out of town until tomorrow night.”

“Kurt.  Kurt Hummel is your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

Noah almost tripped over his feet.  “Yes.  How did you know?”

“My father is not a subtle man.  He’s also not a stupid man.  He’s been around a long time, and he’s secretly a sucker for a good romance.”

Noah thought about the email, the one that had started this whole thing.  “But there was-”

“An email, I know.  It wasn’t him, Noah.  It was one of his interns, some college girl who thought that she needed to impress him.  He only found out after the Secret Service showed up, and the girl has been fired.  She said,” Noah could hear Brennan biting back a laugh, “that she did it to raise my father’s status with Nate Callahan.”

“Nate Callahan from the DNC?”

“Yeah.”

Noah couldn’t help the roar of laughter that bellowed from his lungs.  When he had finished, and wiped the tears from his cheeks, he continued talking.  “I’m not sure I want to know where your father finds his interns.  She did know he’s a _Republican_ , right?  And that, by definition, the vice-chair of the DNC is a _Democrat_?  And that your father wouldn’t even talk a call from Callahan, much less want to be held in his esteem?”

“I have no idea.   But she got herself fired, and my father will be apologizing when he sees you at the press conference, so pretend that you and I haven’t had this conversation.”

“No worries.   I can do that.  Let me talk with Kurt, and I’ll call you back later tonight, okay?”

“Great.  Jamie is really excited to meet you both.”

“Same here.”  Noah spotted AJ walking leisurely ahead of him, so he quickened his pace and made a perfunctory goodbye to Brennan.  He was still stuffing his phone back into his pocket when he caught up, snaking a territorial arm across AJ’s shoulder. 

She startled at the contact before smiling up at him.  “Hey, you.  Good news?”

“Movement on the repeal front.  Let me buy you a drink and tell you about it?  And the other problem we might have, in the form of a very homophobic higher up at the national committee.”

AJ pulled her own phone from her pocket and shot off a quick text.  The reply that came back was just as speedy.  “No need to buy drinks.  Come to the house and have dinner with us.”

**

Kurt was half-asleep, exhausted from the plane trip and the endless talking and the mild panic he was feeling at talking to three classes of high schoolers the next morning, when the trilling of his phone jostled him from his reverie. 

“Hey, baby.  How’s the District?”

“Fine.  How’d things go?”

Kurt sat up, sliding his laptop aside and stretching.  “Dad and Carole are fine with things.  They think that our coming out might help things.”

Noah hummed in his ear.  “They might be right.  I know something else that might help things.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Our man is ready to man up, as it were.  And they want to do it before the weekend.”

“What about-”

“Baby.  We can still do the press release.  Don’t worry.  It’s just that this thing is also going to happen on Friday.  And AJ wants you to write his speech.  I haven’t talked with _him_ about that yet, but I think it’s a good idea.”  Kurt could hear the excitement creeping out of Noah’s voice.  And, if he swallowed back his own mild panic for a moment, he could admit that he was feeling similarly.  Things were in motion now.  There was no way to take any of it back.  And the chance to write for someone he didn’t know was the kind of challenge Kurt loved.

“I’ll do it.  I’ll write for him.  And…” he took a deep breath, “if you wanted to be more public than a buried press release, we could do that, too.”

Noah’s intake of breath was sharp, but his tone was gentle.  “I really don’t think that’s necessary.  But maybe we’ll let AJ release at the morning briefing instead?”

Kurt smiled in spite of himself.  “I think that’s a good idea.  Now.  I have to talk with some high school kids tomorrow, and if I’m going to write a speech by Friday I need to contact your _man_ to find out what he wants to say.”

“I need to talk to him, too.  Let me do that, and I’ll have him call you.”

“Sounds good.  I love you, Noah.”

“I love you, too, Kurt.  See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.  Tomorrow.”

**

Kurt stood awkwardly by Ms. Feinberg’s desk, a large mocha from The Lima Bean in his hand, watching the kids in her AP US History class filed in and pulled their desks into a circle.  The earlier classes, two junior history classes, had seen Kurt doing most of the talking.  The kids had all listened politely, but he’d only answered a handful of fairly generic questions about working in the White House.  He leaned across the desk and lowered his voice.  “They’ll ask lots of questions, right?”  
  
Ms. Feinberg smiled.  “They will if I make it part of their participation grade for the week.  Watch this!”  She strode to the circle of desks and clapped her hands.  “Okay, everyone.  As you can see, we have a guest this morning.  This is Kurt Hummel.  He was one of my students, and now he works at the White House.  He’s going to talk for a few minutes, and then he’ll answer any  
questions you have.  And you _will_ ask questions.”  The kids all nodded, and scooted their desks out to make room for Kurt.    
  
When he had wedged himself into the desk, he took a sip of his mocha and started talking.  
  
“Like Ms. Feinberg said, I grew up here in Lima.  I went to Washington for the first time as a Senate Page when I was in high school, and I went to college at George Washington.  I always knew I wanted to be involved in politics, and after college I took a job as an aide with a state assemblywoman in Maryland.”  He shrugged to himself.  “I’m kind of a rarity in politics, because that assemblywoman was Kelly Jackson.  I stayed with her after she won her Congressional seat, and I worked on her campaign for President.  And now I am a White House speechwriter.”  
  
A short dark-haired girl two seats over from him eyed him sideways.  “And you went to school _here_?”  
  
Kurt couldn’t help laughing.  “Yes, I did.”  
  
“So how did you manage to escape?”    
  
“Rachel!”  Ms. Feinberg started to scold the girl, but Kurt waved her off.    
  
“Rachel, is it?”  She nodded.  “Well.  Escape is an interesting term, because I never really thought of it like that.  Don’t get me wrong, there were lots of reasons I wanted to get out of Ohio, but it was mostly that I wanted more for myself than what I was going to be able to get here.  The biggest thing for me was that when it came time to apply to college, I didn’t apply anywhere local.”  
  
He waited while Rachel scribbled in her notebook, and looked around the circle for more questions.  A slim brown-haired boy at the back of the circle caught his eye, but looked away before saying a word.  Kurt leaned back in his chair.  “You guys can ask me anything.  I have lots of good stories about the Presidential campaign.”  
  
“What speeches have you written?”  A boy in a letterman jacket slouched behind his desk.  
  
“The biggest one, the most important one for me, was the President’s acceptance speech on election night.  Most of the others, like the Inaugural and the State of the Union, are things I work on with all of the speechwriters.  But I did write her speech for the last campaign swing, and I’m working on something for a press conference on Friday.”  
  
The brown-haired boy shifted again, and Kurt looked at him gently.  “Do you have a question or a comment?”  
  
The boy nodded.  “I, uh.  I don’t want to be inappropriate.”  
  
Kurt laughed lightly.  “There’s not much that’s inappropriate as far as I’m concerned.  That’s the thing about politics... your life becomes pretty much an open book.”  
  
The boy still flushed pink before blurting out, “so it’s true that you’re gay?”  
  
“Michael...” Kurt felt Ms. Feinberg move next to him, but he put a hand on her arm.  
  
“No, it’s okay,” he whispered before turning his attention back to Michael.  “Yes, it’s true that I’m gay.”  He looked at each of the twelve students in turn.  “I’ve never hid that part of my life, mostly because it’s hard to do in a place where everyone is in your business.  But I also know that it’s not always easy to be out.  So don’t feel like you have to follow my example.  There’s always a lot to consider.”  
  
“But- but weren’t you worried that being out would hurt President Jackson?”  Michael’s face was still pink, but he was meeting Kurt’s eye; that was better, Kurt thought.  
  
“I told her at my first job interview.  It was her decision at that point.  But yes, I did worry.  I still do, sometimes.  Especially at times like now, when we have a lot going on.  Is anyone here following Don’t Ask Don’t Tell?”  
  
He was met with mostly blank stares, though Michael nodded gently, and Rachel was waving her hand around.    
  
“My two gay dads and I discuss GLBT current events every night over dinner.”  
  
“That’s . . . good, Rachel.  But do any of you know what Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is?”  
  
The rest of the students shook their heads.  “Okay.  So.  Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is the law that prohibits openly gay men and women from serving in the military, and it means that gay soldiers who are serving in secret risk being discharged if they’re found out.  We are working to get the law repealed.  And what’s hard, for me at least, is worrying that there are people who aren’t going to support the repeal just because they don’t like the President having an openly gay staffer.”  
  
“Do things like that really matter?”  Letterman jacket shrugged.  “I mean, it’s not a big deal like it used to be.”  He shot a gentle glance at Michael.  “Okay, so it’s a big deal for some people, but most of us don’t care.  Politics isn’t like that?”  
  
“Politics is nothing like that,” Kurt scoffed.  “Let’s just say that the institution is resistant to change.  And while certain behavior tends to be overlooked, being gay still isn’t popular in Washington.”  
  
“That sucks.”  Letterman jacket huffed into the air.  “But you think you’ll get the repeal taken care of?”  
  
Kurt smiled in spite of himself.  “Yes.  I think we will.  Let’s just say that a lot of things are coming together.”  
  
Ms. Feinberg nodded at him.  “We’re about out of time, but if anyone would like to stay after class and talk with Kurt some more, I’ll write you a late pass.”  
  
Kurt downed the rest of his mocha while the kids gathered up their books and bags and slid their desks back into rows.  When the bell rang, everyone bolted into the hall but Michael, who hung back just inside the door.  Kurt nodded at him.  “Michael.  Thank you for your questions.”  
  
“Mr. Hummel.  Is it- does it really- _God_.”  He ran an awkward hand over his flushed face and lowered his words to a whisper.  “All those videos, you know.  The ones on YouTube?  They all say that it gets better.  But does it _really_? Will I ever stop feeling like I’m suffocating?”  
  
Kurt leaned back against the wall and sighed.  “I’d be lying if I said that things are perfect all the time.  But it does get easier.  It’s never flawless.  But yes, I guess it is better.”  He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them Michael was watching him, hope and the most desperate _wanting_ for something so clear on his face.  
  
Kurt rested the flat of his palm on Michael’s shoulder.  “Where are you applying to college?”  
  
Michael raised his hand and ticked off on his fingers.  “Amherst.  Brown.  University of Virginia.  William and Mary.”  
  
Kurt nodded.  “And what do you think you want to study?”  
  
“Education.  I want to be a history teacher.”    
  
Kurt lowered his voice and leaned in close to Michael.  “You’re making plans to get away.  Hold on to those on the hard days.  Because when you get out, you’ll find people who don’t care about any of the things that make you a target here.  And,” he held out one of his business cards, “I have a good friend who went to Brown.  Email me if you need anything.  Anything at all.”  
  
Michael sighed with something akin to relief.  “Thank you, Mr. Hummel.”  
  
Kurt waved him off.  “Please.  Call me Kurt.”  
  
“Okay.  K-Kurt.   _Thank_ you.  Just-”  
  
“Michael.”  Kurt stared right into the boy’s eyes.  “I understand.  I do.  You’re going to be just fine.  And really.  Anything at all.”  
  
Michael nodded, and Ms. Feinberg tucked a late pass into his hand.  She waited until he had scampered into the hall before turning to Kurt with a light smile.  “He’s a good kid.  Quiet.  Smart.  And, struggling.  But he never says a word, so I don’t know how to help him.”  
  
Kurt shrugged into his coat.  “Just keep an eye on him.  He probably won’t ask for help, but if you know him well enough, you can offer it.”  
  
“Do you think he’ll contact you?”  
  
“Maybe.  It’s hard to know for sure.  He might just need someone who isn’t _in_ his life to talk to.”  
  
“You might be right.”  She pulled him into a hug.  “Thank you for stopping by, and for talking to my kids today.”  
  
“I don’t know what good it did.”  
  
Ms. Feinberg walked with him into the hall.  “You’d be surprised.  Good luck with everything.”  
  
“Thanks.”  Kurt glanced around before turning to walk away.  “I think I’m going to need it.”  
  
Kurt was juggling his messenger bag and the keys to the rental car against the cold wind and gentle rain when a voice reached him across the parking lot.    
  
“Hey!  Wait!”  Kurt turned to see the kid in the letterman jacket weaving through parked cars.  “Dude!  Hold up!”  
  
Kurt looked at the kid sideways.  “I didn’t catch your name.”    
  
The boy brushed his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes and held out his hand.  “Sam.  Sam Evans.”  
  
“Sam.  Nice to meet you.”  
  
“Yeah.  Listen.  Thanks for talking to us.  And, you know.”  Sam looked down and scuffed the toe of his sneaker against a crack in the pavement.  “For being honest.  It helps.”  
  
“Helps what?”  
  
Sam worried at his lip with his teeth.  “Michael.  He’s good folks.  But he takes a lot of sh- _stuff_ , y’know?  I think hearing you talk, knowing that you got _out_ of here?  That’s going to be good for him.”  
  
Kurt brushed at his hair, sending freezing droplets of water scattering.  “Maybe.  But it’s also good that he has someone like you looking out for him.  You do look out for him, right?”  
  
Sam nodded.  “As much as I can.  But I can’t be everywhere at once.”  He glanced around, eyes darting to the dumpsters behind the cafeteria.    
  
Kurt nodded.  “Is the hall by the gym still a hazard?”  
  
“Yeah.  I know the worst places.  But I don’t always know what happens in the other places.”  
  
Kurt put a hand on Sam’s sleeve.  “You’re doing what you can, and that’s important.  Ms. Feinberg will be doing her part, too.  Why don’t you talk with her?  Maybe she can gather some other sympathetic teachers.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out another business card.  “Michael has one of these.  But you take one, too.  Feel free, if you need anything.  Or is Michael does and doesn’t want to ask.  I can’t always respond immediately, but I am practically chained to my phone, so.”  He shrugged, and tried again to unlock the car.  “I really need to get on the road if I’m going to make my plane.”  
  
“Yeah.  Drive safe, I guess.”  
  
“I will.”  Sam turned back towards the school.    
  
“Sam!”    
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Thank you for being a good friend.  Michael is lucky.”  
  
Kurt chuckled at the light blush that drifted over Sam’s pale face before he wandered back into the shadow of the building.   _Kids_ , he thought, and tried to remember what 18 felt like.  
  
**  
  
Kurt had too much work to do on Thursday to risk the distractions of the office, so he stayed home.  Not that his email didn’t chime every 30 seconds with messages from his assistant, or AJ, or Noah, but working from home meant bigger blocks of uninterrupted writing time.  It also meant working in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and ordering Chinese for lunch, and the kind of illicit thrill of speechwriting while watching Days of Our Lives, but he wasn’t going to mention the last one to anybody at the office.  
  
By 4 pm, he had a good speech for Bill Brennan and an even better short press release.  He emailed the release to AJ and Noah, and the text of the speech to Bill, and then closed his eyes for the rarest of afternoon naps.  
  
He got less than five minutes before his email started chiming.  
  
 _From: aj.hammonds@whitehouse.gov_  
 _To: kurt.hummel@whitehouse.gov, noah.puckerman@whitehouse.gov_  
 _Subject: re: release_  
  
 _K-_  
  
 _Good stuff.  I’ll format it and put it in the morning’s press packet._  
  
 _-AJ_  
  
  
 **From: noah.puckerman@whitehouse.gov**  
 **To: kurt.hummel@whitehouse.gov**  
 **Subject: re: release**  
  
 **Thank you.  I know you’re still a little unsure, but the press release is good, and it’s going to be fine.  Besides, we’re going to be overshadowed by the time AJ gives the last briefing.**  
  
 **See you tonight.**  
  
 **-N**  
  
  
 _From: bill.brennan@gmail.com_  
 _To: keh@gmail.com_  
 _Subject: re: speech_  
  
 _Kurt-_  
  
 _Wow.  Thank you._  
  
 _I wasn’t sure what it would feel like, having someone else give me words to say.  But you took everything we talked about the other night and put it here.  I know you don’t even know me, but these feel like my words.  It’s perfect._  
  
 _Jamie and I are very much looking forward to meeting you this evening._  
  
 _-Bill_  
  
**  
  
Noah could feel Kurt’s hand shaking in his as they waited in front of 15ria for Bill and Jamie.  He pulled Kurt close, and into the dark by the side of the building, so that he could press a kiss to the side of Kurt’s jaw.  “It’s going to be fine, baby.”  
  
Kurt leaned slightly into the pressure of Noah’s body and sighed.  “I know.  I just- there’s so much at stake.  What if someone sees us, _all_ of us, and the news breaks on Bill before he can do it on his own terms?”  
  
“Bill is a big boy.  He and I talked about that possibility, and he’s okay.  So,” Noah ran his hand over the back of Kurt’s neck and reveled in the delicious shiver he felt course through Kurt’s body, “just relax, okay?  You’re too tense.  This is supposed to be fun.”  
  
“Uh huh.”    
  
“When was the last time you were out with _any_ gay man who wasn’t me or that asshole from JAG?”  
  
Kurt huffed a laugh.  “God.  You and my father.  He was never going to be anything serious.”    
  
Noah felt warmth spread through his abdomen at the intensity of Kurt’s gaze.  “I know.  But really, Kurt.  When was the last time you went out and had _fun_ with like-minded people?”  
  
“Okay.  Okay.  I’ll do my best.”  
  
Noah couldn’t help it, he _had_ to kiss Kurt.  He was just so _fucking_ in love, and the idea of being out in public with his _boyfriend_ was more than a little intoxicating.  He pulled Kurt close, let his fingers play in Kurt’s hair, and sunk their lips together.  Kurt let out a little gasp, but didn’t pull away even though they were still on the street and Noah could feel him struggling to control his urge to just throw himself into the kiss.  He also wasn’t surprised that Kurt pulled away first and looked at him with sparkling eyes and pink cheeks.    
  
“Not fair,” he said, smiling anyway.  
  
Noah shrugged.  “You’re more relaxed now, though, aren’t you?”  
  
“That depends on how you define relaxed.”  Kurt reached out for Noah’s hand and tugged him back into the light from the streetlamp.  “If by _relaxed_ you mean _take me home and do unmentionable things to me_ then yes, you succeeded at your mission.”  
  
Noah felt color rise on his own cheeks and stumbled over himself trying to get words out.  “I’ll file that away for later,” he finally managed to choke out.  
  
“Good.”  Kurt squeezed his hand again and turned at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind them.  Noah smiled at Bill, ambling hand-in-hand with a slightly shorter man who had to be Jamie.  Noah reached out and hugged Bill like they were old friends, because really, managing someone else’s public coming out was as close as you could get to family in Noah’s mind, and he was pleased when Bill didn’t pull away.  He tugged Kurt over, and Bill nodded before extending his hand.    
  
“My wordsmith.  I can’t even-”  
Kurt was shaking his head.  “It was an honor, really.  I usually only write for the President, so this was fun.”  
  
Noah rolled his eyes at Bill, and smiled at Kurt.  “I think Kurt might be the only one who thinks that writing speeches is fun.”  
  
Kurt nudged him with an elbow.  “Says the man who still tracks election results on a color-coded white board map.”  
  
“It worked for Tim Russert, man.”  
  
Bill laughed, and put an arm around Jamie, pulling him closer.  “Noah, Kurt, this is my boyfriend Jamie.”    
  
Jamie nodded at them each in turn before fixing his gaze on Noah.  His blue eyes were vibrant and piercing.  “Thank you,” he said.  
  
“For what?”  Noah was feeling a little off-kilter.  
  
“For not discounting Bill because of his father.  And for helping him with the process.”  He held back with Noah for a moment while Kurt and Bill slipped into the restaurant.  “It’s going to be good for him, yes, but good for us, too.”  
  
Noah ushered Jamie through the door and spoke softly.  “I think coming out is going to be good for everybody.”  
  
**  
  
Noah had been right, Kurt mused as he sipped at his martini and listened to Bill and Jamie banter over the appetizer menu, it was nice to spend some time with other gay men.  He never had, really, in social situations.  But tonight, being part of a couple, out with _another_ couple, made Kurt feel like he belonged to something a little bigger, a little more of himself, than his usual dinner company of other political folks.  
  
Kurt let the vodka burn a trail down his throat, and he could feel his limbs going warm and loose with every sip, and every gentle brush of Noah’s arm against his own as they looked over the menu.  He felt surprisingly unselfconscious, and leaned further into the touch in the moments after the waitress came and took their orders.  He caught Bill and Jamie watching, smiling in the flickering light of the candles on the table, and he couldn’t help but smile back at them.  
  
The talk stayed casual through the first round of drinks and appetizers, and then veered off into the edge of slightly too personal with a second round of drinks and their entrees.  Noah regaled Bill and Jamie with stories of their time as pages, and what it was like to work on the campaign.  Jamie rubbed circles on the back of Bill’s hand as he told the story of their whirlwind romance, and Bill kept jumping in with snarky commentary that had Kurt laughing so hard he couldn’t eat.  
  
When the plates had been cleared and drinks replaced with coffee, Kurt laid his head on Noah’s shoulder and whispered above the light din of the other diners.  “I like them.  Can we keep them?”  
  
Noah just pressed a kiss to his temple.  “I don’t think you could pay me to get rid of them now.  Our first couple friends.”  
  
Kurt was going back and forth between the molten chocolate cake and the apple-pear cobbler when he felt rather than heard Noah gasp next to him, and then the _oh, crap_ under his breath.  
  
Kurt rested a hand on Noah’s forearm.  “What’s wrong, baby?”  
  
“Goddamn Crandall.”  
  
“DNC Crandall?”  Kurt wasn’t sure why he asked; he followed Noah’s gaze to the other side of the room, where Crandall was indeed dining with a woman who was presumably his wife and a trio of teenagers.  
  
“What?”  Jamie dropped his dessert menu on the table and looked at Kurt with worried eyes.    
  
“Nothing.  Just-”  Kurt stammered, but Noah picked up the thread, nodding at Bill.  
  
“Just a bigger bastard than your father.”  
  
“That’s saying something,” Jamie muttered, and Bill nodded in understanding.  
  
“Crandall, isn’t it?,” he asked before elbowing Jamie.  “And my father isn’t _that_ big of a bastard.”  He grinned a sideways grin that made Kurt relax a breath.  Bill leaned across the table and whispered conspiratorially at them.  “Do we have a plan of attack?”  
  
“I don’t think we need one if he doesn’t see us,” Noah said optimistically, but Kurt was already squeezing at his hand.    
  
“Too late.”  Kurt swallowed against the butterflies in his stomach.  He nodded to where Crandall was crossing the space to their table, stride determined and face stony.  “I think we’re going to have to improvise.”  At the panicked look in everyone else’s faces, Kurt turned on them.  “Are you really going to tell me that I’m the only one who did speech and debate in high school?”  
  
He got blank looks from the three of them, and huffed before sitting straighter in his chair.  “I hate you all,” he snapped before fixing a docile look on his face and rising languidly to meet Crandall.  
  
“Mr. Crandall, how nice to see you.  Are you and your family having a nice evening?”  He offered his hand, fully expecting Crandall to brush it aside, but Crandall took it and shook limply.  
  
“Mr. Hummel.”  Crandall was stone-faced as he took in the rest of the table.  He nodded at Noah.  “Mr. Puckerman.  I don’t believe I’ve met your friends.”    
  
Kurt shot Noah a _let me take care of this_ look and swept his hand in Jamie and Bill’s direction.  “William Brennan, and his friend James Hamilton.”  
  
Crandall nodded at Bill.  “Any relation to Senator Ian Brennan?”  
  
“My father, sir.”  Bill nodded firmly and eyed Crandall without blinking.  “How are you and your family enjoying your dinner?”  
  
“Fine, fine.”  Crandall brushed the question away and let his eyes roam over the table a second time.  “I didn’t realize you knew each other,” he said, ignoring Kurt in favor of Bill.  
  
“Noah and Kurt are very kindly helping me with something.  I figured a nice dinner out was the least thanks I could offer,” Bill said with a nod.  
  
“That’s . . . _kind_ of you.”  Crandall’s tone suggested it was anything _but_ kind.  “Does your father know you’re in town?  And that you’re socializing with- with-”  
  
Bill smiled sweetly at Crandall.  “With _who_?  I have my own friends, Mr. Crandall.  That isn’t, and never has been my father’s place.”  
  
Kurt felt the whole situation falling rapidly out of control.  He struggled and stammered for his next word or action, while Bill just kept on.  “Are you implying something about my dinner company?”  
  
Crandall sputtered for a moment before choking out the thoughts Kurt knew he’d been keeping close for weeks.  “I’d be more worried about what your dinner company implies about _you_ , William.”  
  
Bill’s eyes went cold, and Kurt watched him grip a steadying hand on Jamie’s arm.  “Mr. Crandall.  You’re interrupting my evening out.  Perhaps you should go back to your family before either one of us says something we might regret.  And, for your information, I have no worries as to what assumptions people might make about me based on my friends.  Especially not if those assumptions are _true_.”  
  
Kurt could feel something simmering in his gut, something he’d left buried all these years.  The very thing he’d been told was _wrong_ about him was burning, and he took a deep breath before turning his _most_ charming expression and tone to Crandall.  He let his hand float out and rest gently against the slightly scratchy fabric of Crandall’s sport coat and felt his voice rise a few notes. “Mr. Crandall, what exactly _are_ your thoughts about our little soirée this evening?  I mean,” he gestured again at the table, “it’s not every evening that gay White House staffers are seen out on the town.  It must seem positively _scandalous_.” 

Kurt smiled, and felt every bit of his body relax into the more effeminate posture and gesture that had gotten him teased as a very young child, back before he learned to control it.  “I’d love to hear your opinions about gays serving openly in the military, but I suspect you’re not exactly toeing the party line on that issue.  _Are_ you, Mr. Crandall?” 

Kurt fixed the man with a steely gaze, and waited for him to blink before he continued.  He reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone, and scrolled through the contacts.  “I know you like to _think_ you run the party, but I have the _real_ leaders on speed dial.  I’m sure they’d all love to hear your opinions, too.  Who should it be?  Press Secretary?  Chief of Staff?  Or, wait, what about the _President?_   I’m sure _she’d_ be especially interested to hear about a little email that a poor intern sent, a very threatening email that resulted in said intern being fired.  I do believe _your_ name came up in her story.”  Kurt waved his phone in the air, and watched while Crandall turned bright red, then pale, then red again. 

“I- you- ”  Crandall sputtered ineffectually, hands opening and closing at the hem of his jacket. 

Kurt set his phone on the table and patted Crandall gently on the shoulder.  He softened his voice even more.  “Why don’t you go back to your family.  Enjoy the rest of your meal.  And be sure to watch the news tomorrow; you’ll have a lot to talk about then.  I’d just be careful what you say in public.  Because we will _all_ be watching.” 

Kurt waited until Crandall had retreated silently before sinking back into his chair.  Noah just stared at him, and Jamie smiled. 

“Did you even know you _had_ such a snarky Inner Queen?,” he asked as he slid the dessert menu back towards Kurt.

Kurt shook his head.  “I haven’t- um.  No.”  He shrugged.  “I got picked on a lot in elementary school, so I just hid that part of me.”  He waited while the others took that in, and waved the waitress over.

“Molten chocolate cake and another martini, please.”  He smiled at her, and then looked back at Noah, Jamie, and Bill.  He felt his eyes light up, and his laugh was more like a cackle.  “That was long overdue.  And,” he continued after a sip of water, “it was _fun!”_

**

Kurt felt like he was waiting on pins and needles all day.  AJ had released their simple, four sentence press release in the packet at the morning briefing, and hadn’t taken a single question about it.  Kurt spent the morning in his office reading and re-reading Bill’s speech, and he kept catching glimpses of Noah pacing anxiously in the hall until he left at 11 am for a final meeting at the Capital with Bill and Senator Brennan.  Kurt waited until noon before he couldn’t stand it anymore, and packed up to head to the Capital himself.  He met Jamie as planned at 12:30, escorted him through security and up to Senator Brennan’s office.  And then it was just a matter of waiting.    
  
The Senator tried his best to make small talk, but Kurt figured that was kind of futile when both Bill and Noah looked like they were about to vomit.  In the end, he pulled Noah into the long-unused copy room on the third floor that was _still_ unused, and shoved a lukewarm ginger ale at him.  “Sip, gently.”  He rubbed small, soothing circles on Noah’s shoulder and felt Noah relax slightly.  “You’ve done all you can.  You can’t control the outcome, you can just get your message out there.  And like you told me last night, Bill is a big boy who can take care of himself.”  
  
“What if this is all a mistake?”  Noah sipped the ginger ale with trembling hands.  
  
“If those West Point cadets were here right now, would they tell you it was a mistake?”  
  
“Probably not.”  
  
“Okay, then.  We can only move forward from here.”  Noah stared at his impeccably shined dress shoes, and Kurt had to strengthen his voice to get his attention.  “Baby.  It’s going to be fine.”  
  
Noah reached up and laced his fingers into Kurt’s.  “When did you get so brave?”  
  
Kurt shrugged.  “I guess channeling my inner diva last night did something.”  
  
“You’re not scared anymore.”  It wasn’t a question.  
  
Kurt shook his head and smiled.  “No.  I suppose I’m not.”  
  
“Good.  That’s good.”  Kurt could tell Noah’s mind was wandering back to the press conference, so he took his hand and squeezed gently before pulling Noah to his feet and leading him back up the hall to the Senator’s office, where the silence threatened to suffocate.  He left Noah then, and escaped into the cool bright and bustle of the hallway and waited, head tilted back against the wall and eyes closed against the echo of Noah’s words in his brain.   _What if this is all a mistake?_  
  
It _couldn’t_ be a mistake; Kurt wasn’t sure of much, but his new inner resolve was positive of that.  And he felt like he needed to hold onto it with an iron grip.

  
**  
  
Noah sipped at that damn warm soda for close to an hour before Senator Brennan’s assistant threw the office door open and nodded at them.  “It’s time,” she whispered, and Noah followed the Senator and Bill out into the hall, Jamie on his heels.  The procession was slightly awkward, the Senator moving briskly while Noah and Bill tried to keep up, Kurt and Jamie lingering back a handful of steps.  As they rounded a corner, Noah heard Kurt whisper to Jamie, sotto voce: _Welcome to the spouse’s club!_  
  
Noah was almost surprised at the number of press there; he wondered absently if it had to do with the morning’s press release, but he didn’t have time to dwell before he was being urged to the podium.  He cleared his throat once, and began.  
  
“Thank you all for coming today.  As you know, we have been working hard to foster cooperation among both parties on the matter of repealing Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.  We are here today for important statements in that matter from Senator William Brennan of Nebraska and his son, Air Force Lieutenant Colonel William Brennan.”  
  
Noah stepped aside, and then back to the area at the side of the room where Kurt and Jamie stood, pretending to be invisible.  He moved close enough so that the motion of Kurt’s hand against his own was invisible, and let out a breath as Bill started his statement.  
  
“Good afternoon.  The statement I am about to read has the potential to impact 16 years of military service, but the continued enforcement of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell will impact many more lives and careers than just mine.  I am a graduate of the United States Air Force Academy.  I have served two combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.  And I am here today to come out publicly as a gay man.  I have served proudly in the Air Force since I was 18 years old; I have upheld the values and beliefs of our military because they are _my_ values and beliefs as well.  But it is no longer prudent for me to keep serving in secrecy, not when my coming out can help the fight.  I stand here today to urge all members of Congress to support the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.  It’s not just my career on the line.  It’s the careers of hundreds of service members around the world, and it’s about the strength and health of our military.  Asking soldiers to keep secrets in order to serve is contrary to every value the military instills in recruits.  It harms us and our families, and weakens unit cohesion and readiness.  I am lucky; I have parents who have kept my secret, and feared for me every day since I was 22 years old.  I have a partner who waits patiently, and supports me, and wonders every day if today is going to be the day one of us slips up and I get investigated.  Serving in secret is a life lived in fear.  It is time for all of us to come together and repeal Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, so that nobody else has to sacrifice identity for country.”  
  
The press was silent as Senator Brennan stepped up, clapped Bill on the shoulder and turned his gaze into the room.  
  
“I am here today as the proud father of a gay soldier.  When William came to me just after his graduation from the Air Force Academy and told me he was gay, I asked him what that meant for his career.  William assured me that he wanted to honor his commitment, and wanted to make a career of military service.  In that moment, I had to make a decision, and I made the right one, the _only_ one I could make at the time: I promised William that I would support him, and his career.  And if that meant keeping his secret, so be it.  I urge my colleagues on the Armed Services Committee to move on the bill before us before the close of business on Monday, so that we may begin the ling process of repealing the law that is harming not only our military as an institution but also the men and women who give their lives in service to it.  And once the bill reaches the House and the Senate, I will advocate for swift passage.  This move is long overdue.  We can never right the wrong for those soldiers who have already been discharged in the years since the law took effect, but we _can_ change things for those who are still serving, who are living lives of secrets and silence.  Thank you.”  
  
The reporters were silent for half a breath before exploding into a frenzy of shouts and camera flashes and utter chaos. Kurt leaned into Noah and raised his voice to be heard above the noise.  “Are you going to take questions?”  
  
Noah shook his head.  “Not me, but I think Bill and the Senator might.”  
  
They did.  Or, rather, the Senator did.  Bill stood behind him, slightly to his right, and waited while his father answered questions about being a parent of a gay child, and whether that affected his votes on every social issue under the sun.  Noah couldn’t help but fidget a little at some of the more inane questions, and he was a little disappointed that none of the reporters asked more about the repeal.  But he supposed he had no right to complain; bad questions were better than no questions, and the fact that a known conservative Senator was coming out in support of his gay son was going to get them lots of news coverage regardless.  
  
**  
  
It was edging close to midnight by the time Kurt and Noah said their goodnights to Bill and Jamie and a surprisingly jovial Senator Brennan.    
  
“I think,” Kurt mused into Noah’s jacket as they walked, entwined, from the restaurant to the Metro, “that Senator Brennan was a little drunk.”    
  
He felt Noah’s lips graze his cheek.  “I think someone else might be a little drunk.”  
  
Kurt felt his cheeks warm in the darkness.  “Nope.  A little buzzed, maybe, but not drunk.”  
  
“It was a good day,” Noah sighed, straightening and taking Kurt’s hand as they descended the Metro stairs.  “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?”  
  
“Proud of me for what?”   Kurt had to dig around in his pocket for his fare card, and he waited on the other side of the turnstile for Noah to swipe his own card before they wandered slowly through the echoing, nearly empty station.     
  
“For everything.  The press statement, and Bill’s statement, and being there with me today.  You didn’t have to do that.”  
  
Kurt shrugged.  “It was important.  Not just for you, you know that, right?  For all of us.  I haven’t had a chance to tell you about this kid I met.  When I was in Lima?”  
  
“When you talked to those classes.”  Noah pulled him closer in the cool of the station; their train was still 10 minutes out, by the computerized board over the tracks.  
  
“Yeah.  His name is Michael.  His teacher said that he’s a good kid, quiet and smart.  He seemed a little shy, and so _grateful_ that I was open and honest about being gay.”  Kurt scuffed at the yellow safety line with the toe of his loafer.  “He asked me if it really did get better, like all those videos say.”  
  
“What did you tell him?”  
  
“I told him things got _easier._  Never perfect, but yes, better.  And I gave him one of my cards.”  He huffed a breath of air that turned pale white.  “He’s got a friend looking out for him, and his teacher.  He’ll be okay.  But he made me realize that being scared doesn’t just hurt me.  It hurts Michael and the other kids like him, like _us_.”  
  
“I love you, but I also really like seeing a more confident you.”  Kurt could feel Noah’s smile.  “You did a really good job on Bill’s statement, and the one you gave to AJ for the press?  So much in so few words.  We’ll have to go out for the papers in the morning.”  
  
Kurt leaned in a little closer as the approaching train sucked into the station, and they waited, hand-in-hand, for a couple of passengers to get off.  The train itself was warm and bright, and Kurt picked a seat in the back, because his alcohol buzz was making him want to be a little handsy with Noah.  He waited patiently while Noah folded himself into the seat against the motion of the already-moving train, and then he leaned over and ran the tip of his tongue over the spot just behind Noah’s ear that made him shiver _every freaking time_.  He felt the shiver, and heard Noah’s faint moan, and then Noah was pulling away and clearing his throat.  
  
“K,” he said, voice low and full, nodding at a middle-aged man sitting in one of the sideways seats in the middle of the car.  He was clearly trying not to watch them, and Kurt felt suddenly embarrassed.  He ducked his forehead against Noah’s shoulder.  
  
“Crap.  I didn’t think-”  
  
Noah’s hand was gentle on his arm.  “it’s okay.  But I think we should wait till we get home.”  
  
“Yeah.  You’re right.”  He still leaned into Noah, though, letting the motion of the train wash over him as the world passed by outside.    
  
After the next stop, though, the man got up and moved closer to them.  He smiled, and looked at Noah with kind eyes.  “You put together that press conference today.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Noah nodded.  The man turned his gaze on Kurt.  
  
“Did you write all the statements today?”  The man gestured to the folded newspaper tucked under his arm.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Good work, both of you,” he nodded as the train slowed around the final curve before Noah and Kurt’s stop.  “Brave.  I hope . . .” he swallowed against something, and Kurt pretended that he didn’t see the man’s eyes filling up with tears.  “I hope it works.  The silence, it takes some people.  We need more who speak out, to save the ones who can’t.  Anyway.   _Thank you_.”  The man smiled sadly at them, and was up and off the train before Noah and Kurt had even registered he was gone.    
  
“I guess we did good,” Kurt whispered as they left the train for the cool of the night.  
  
Noah wrapped an arm around Kurt’s waist and kissed his hair.  “Yeah, we did.  C’mon, let’s go home.”


	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Election Night, 2012**  
  
Kurt was tucked into the corner of the sofa in Noah’s office, working as always on a handful of last-minute edits to the President’s speech while Noah flipped the TV between CNN and MSNBC and cursed at the anchors.  “What’s taking so long,” he muttered, tapping on his desk with the blue dry erase marker.  “The damn polls closed half an hour ago in New England.”  
  
Kurt set his laptop aside and crossed the floor, putting a steadying hand on Noah’s shoulder.  “Sweetheart, relax.  You’ve done all you can.  We just have to wait now.”  
  
“I know.  I just want it to be over so we can go back to doing our fucking jobs.”  
  
“Soon, baby.  A few hours.  And then we can go up to the residence and party with our friends and family.”  Kurt felt Noah relax minutely under his hand, so he just stood there in silence, listening to Rachel Maddow and Chuck Todd banter on the TV until they were interrupted by footsteps in the hall and a tiny blond boy in footie pajamas tearing through the door.    
  
“Unca Noah, Unca Kurt!”  Kurt turned and caught the boy before he bonked his head on the corner of Noah’s desk and swept him up into the air.  He laughed heartily and started chanting _airpwane, airpwane_ with gusto.  The clatter of high heels in the hall gave way to Jenna, hair windswept and juggling a purse and a diaper bag.    
  
“Jonathan Andrew!  I told you, no running!”  Kurt looked at her sheepishly and set Jack down on the floor.  
  
“Sorry, Jen.”  He looked down to where Jack was tugging on his pant leg.    
  
“Unca Kurt, more airpwane.”   
  
“I don’t know, buddy.”  He raised an eyebrow at Jenna, who was met with Jack’s pleadings.    
  
“Mama, _more_ airpwane!”    
  
Jenna scooped him up and settled him on her hip.  “Sorry, buddy.  Maybe later.  Your uncles need to finish their work, and _we_ need to go find mommy.”  Jack nodded in a very earnest way and rested his head on Jenna’s shoulder even as he eyeballed Kurt.  “Later, Unca Kurt.”  
  
“You got it, buddy.”  Kurt smiled at Jenna and rested a hand on Jack’s back in the moment before they turned to leave.    
  
“Oh!”  Jenna looked back over her shoulder and winked.  “I found some friends of yours outside.  They looked a little lost.”  
  
Kurt looked around the door into the hall, and spied Bill and Jamie talking softly in the low light.    
  
“Well.  Look what the cat dragged in.”  Kurt was met with smiles and hugs, and warned them before escorting them into Noah’s office.  “He’s a little uptight.  Something about the news anchors trying to skew the polling to affect voter turnout.  I don’t know.”  He rolled his eyes, and Jamie laughed roundly.  “I just write the speeches around here.”  
  
Kurt couldn’t feel bad that Noah relaxed more with Bill in the room.  He understood; the presence of people who weren’t elbow deep in the minutiae of the work tended to alleviate some of the stress.  Kurt was impressed that Bill even got Noah to stop pacing.    
  
**  
  
When the first New England states were called, Jamie made a game of coloring in the map, and Bill started taking bets on how the rest of the states were going to go.  At 10, when the Midwest starting dribbling in, AJ brought them all beer and a bag of chips, kicking her heels under Noah’s desk and taking a turn with the blue marker.  By 11, most of the party had drifted down from the residence, and had spilled into the hall outside as well, and even though the election had been called 5 states ago, there was still a battle over coloring in Alaska and Hawaii.  Noah dangled the blue marker in his fingers and glanced around the room, letting his eyes fall on AJ, on Bill and Jamie.  On Kurt, stretched out on the sofa singing softly into Jack’s ear and rubbing circles on his tiny back.  He settled, finally, on the President, leaning in the doorway with a light smile on her face.  
  
“Madam President, would you care to do the honors?”    
  
She crossed the room to him and took the marker, then rolled up her sweater sleeves and set to work at the map.  When she was done, she turned back to him and held the marker out.  “Four more years.”  She glanced around the room.  “Do you think everyone has it in them?”  
  
“I hope so, Ma’am.”  He nodded at Kurt.  “I know we both do.”  
  
“Good.”  She rested her hand on his forearm.  “I need to ask you something.”  
  
“Okay.”  Noah caught her nod at Andrea, who excused herself from Bill and Jamie and joined them in front of the map.    
  
“Good work, Noah.”  Andrea regarded him fondly and handed him a key on a T-Rex keychain.  “A reward, if you will.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
Andrea’s eyes when she looked back at him were slightly sad.  “I’ll be leaving the White House in January, after the Inauguration.  It’s time.  And I want you to be my replacement.”  
  
“C-Chief of Staff?”  
  
“I think you’ve more than earned it.”  
  
“I- wow.”  
  
The President held his gaze.  “Unless you don’t want it.”  
  
Noah sucked in a breath and steadied himself.  “Ma’am.  I serve at the pleasure of the President.”  
“Good.”  The President and Andrea nodded at each other, and Andrea returned to Jamie and Bill.  “Enjoy the party.  We’ll start tomorrow.”  
  
Noah turned the bulk of the keychain over and over in his hand, lost in his thoughts and the music and voices of the people around him, and the flashing brightness of the muted TV.  He wasn’t aware of AJ moving around him to scoop up a sleeping Jack, and didn’t notice Kurt behind him until strong arms were around his waist and Kurt’s chin was on his shoulder.  
  
“Penny or quarter?”  
  
“For my thoughts?  Definitely quarter.”  He held up the keychain, and felt Kurt sigh with recognition.  
  
“That’s what I think it is.”    
  
“Yeah.   _The torch has been passed_ ,” Noah said, and felt Kurt shiver.    
  
“You’ve always had a soft spot for JFK.”    
  
Noah nodded against the side of Kurt’s head.  “It’s how you got me to join the campaign in the first place.”  
  
“I know.  So.  You’re kind of going to be my boss now, aren’t you?”  Noah turned in Kurt’s arms and held him close.  
  
“Yeah.  I guess so.  I hope that doesn’t mean I’ll have to stop doing this at work.”  Noah leaned in and pressed his lips to Kurt’s, hard but not too demanding.  He felt Kurt melt against him.  It was such a brilliant change from four years previous, when Kurt had bolted as soon as he’d realized what was happening.    
  
A low whistle from Bill drew them apart, and Kurt just smiled at their friends before turning back to Noah.  “No regrets, baby?”  
  
Noah wrapped himself around Kurt and leaned against the edge of his desk.  He took in the thrum and push of excited bodies and voices and let himself be _in that moment_.  He had a career, a _name_ for himself, and he had Kurt.  He couldn’t have asked for anything more.

“No, K.  Never any regrets.”

 

 


End file.
